


Ghost Notes

by tfm



Series: The Exandria Sessions [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Autistic Beauregard Lionett, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Coming of Age, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Minor Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of Obann and his general terribleness, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 57,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfm/pseuds/tfm
Summary: Beau reached the end of the noticeboard, and stopped. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a large hand-drawn poster that covered advertisements for concerts and sports games that were several months old.“Rock band looking for a drummer!” the poster read. The words “rock band” were surrounded by hearts, stars, and what looked like tiny cartoon dicks.Or, high school senior Beauregard Lionett finds friendship and acceptance in the last place she expected: somebody else's garage.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & The Mighty Nein, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, past Beauregard Lionett/Tori
Series: The Exandria Sessions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154504
Comments: 231
Kudos: 734





	1. I

I.

Beau walked home via the Opal Archways.

She didn't often go through this part of town. In fact, she tried to avoid it when possible, because it was the sort of place that rich assholes like her parents hung out, and even in her Cobalt Soul uniform, her undercut and her general demeanor brought a lot of snooty looks.

Maybe it was the active bitch face.

In any case, she normally would have walked through the Skew, but there was far too much of a risk of running into Tori there, which was the last thing that Beau wanted. The break-up...well, it had been less of a voluntary thing, and more of a “well one of us is in prison now, so it's gonna be really awkward the next time we meet.”

On the whole, the Opal Archways was much easier to deal with. Beau had her headphones in, and was blasting _Blade of Disaster_ much louder than was probably wise (or safe), earning her dirty looks from other passersby. Beau ignored them. She was far too interested in the noticeboard in front of her. Every now and then, the rich idiots in the Opal Archways posted signs about odd jobs that needed doing, and paid absurdly well. Beau had earned a decent amount doing tutoring work before her own senior-year homework and extra-curricular load had put an end to it.

There was nothing of interest on the paying front. Lots of “do this and we won't pay you” options, which somehow seemed to pop up more in the rich part of town where people had silver spoons up their ass.

Beau reached the end of the noticeboard, and stopped. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a large hand-drawn poster that covered advertisements for concerts and sports games that were several months old.

“Rock band looking for a drummer!” the poster read. The words “rock band” were surrounded by hearts, stars, and what looked like tiny cartoon dicks. Definitely not the usual sort of band looking for a drummer. The important part, though, was the phrase below, that read “kit provided.”

Most bands looking for drummers wanted you to bring your own kit. Once upon a time, that wouldn't have been too much of a problem for Beau. She'd load up her monster of a thing into the back of her shitty car, and lug it around the place, sweating and swearing through the entire ordeal.

Now she wasn't allowed to do that anymore. The thing about acoustic kits, was...well, they were pretty loud. She couldn't exactly sneak it out. Not given that it was under lock and key down in the wine cellar.

On the whole, Beau was pretty good at picking locks, and it wasn't as though her parents actually spent a great deal of time at home. But given that they had also confiscated and sold her car, getting the kit out of the wine cellar wouldn't do her much good.

“Call Jester” the bottom of the advertisement said. There was a number written there, also surrounded by hearts, stars and dicks. Beau got out a pen, and wrote the number on her hand. Her cell phone, at least, Beau was pretty sure had been locked in her dad's desk drawer, but that was much more of a risk to break into than the cellar. She'd have to use the landline, or call from a pay phone or something. Not that there were many pay phones around these days.

The stupid thing was, she'd been eighteen for three months. Legally, she was an adult, but (and there had been an hour or so long screaming match on this front) apparently given that she stilled lived under their roof while she finished school, her father felt like he was perfectly at liberty to take whatever he liked.

Beau was admittedly pretty lucky that that was the worst he had done, given what _she_ had done. If he'd wanted to be a real dick, he would have pressed charges against her for theft. Instead he'd just made her life a living hell.

The worst part of it – the absolute fucking _worst_ part of it – was that he thought he was doing her a favor by keeping her on the straight and narrow. That _he_ was somehow responsible for her grades, and her academic achievement awards, and her judo trophies. As though those had only suddenly started appearing _after_ he'd cracked down on things. The fact that he only seemed to pay attention to her when she acted out had not escaped Beau's notice. By this point, she really should have known better than to play his game. It was stupid, but...well, in spite of it all, she still really liked hearing him praise her.

It wasn't like anyone else ever did.

Okay, so she sometimes got praise from her teachers, or from Dairon, but mostly they gave her judgmental looks for mouthing off, or disagreeing with something that they'd said. Her history teacher, Mr. Tubo, had told Beau outright that she had more detentions than any other student in Cobalt Soul history. She wasn't entirely sure whether or not he had exaggerated that, but even if he hadn't, it was ridiculous that they hadn't kicked her out yet. She supposed her dad was giving them far too many donations or them to consider it.

Beau was somehow simultaneously resentful and grateful of that fact. While she was disdainful of the way most of her classes were run, she did quite enjoy spending time in the library when it was of her own volition, and all the things about school that were not school (band, judo, basketball, et cetera) she enjoyed considerably.

She had another nine months before graduation, before Beau would finally get the chance to crawl out from underneath her parents' grip for good. She still hadn't decided what she was going to do, but the important thing was that she did it anywhere but here.

Neither Beau's mother or her father were home when Beau walked through the front door. TJ was having an afternoon nap while his nanny, a friendly halfling woman named Eila, was reading a book. Beau gave her a small wave as she passed to get to her own bedroom, much sparser than it used to be. Anything that might have brought her even the slightest amount of pleasure had been well and truly confiscated.

It was four o'clock. At least two hours before her dad got home, probably more. Her mother was a little more of a wildcard, but her mother also generally didn't do anything when she found Beau misbehaving. That was part of the problem. She was way too fucking passive about things. But, if she was off socializing, then she was more than likely getting a nice afternoon drunk going, and Beau would have all the time in the world.

She went to her dad's office to make the call. He had a private number, and he never checked his call records. Of all the things that Beau had gotten in trouble for, multiple late-night calls to Tori from her father's office hadn't been one of them.

The number was a cell number, and it rang three times before someone picked up. ' _Hi, this is Jester!_ ' Jester had a very strong Nicodranas accent. It was the accent that so many of the coastal cities had, borne of the melting pot of Exandrian cultures that was the Menagerie Coast.

'Uh, hi. Just calling about your ad for a drummer?' Beau said. 'I'm...my name's Beau.'

' _Oh, hi Beau! It's so nice to meet you. How long have you been drumming for?'_ They went through what Beau expected was the usual regime of questions and answers for when you wanted to join a band, but Jester didn't seem to be too concerned about the answers. ' _Do you want to come and meet us tomorrow? We can hear you play and see if you fit well with the rest of the group._ '

'Uh, sure.' Beau was supposed to have basketball practice tomorrow afternoon, but she could skip one of those without it being an issue. It meant that she had a ready-made alibi for why she wasn't straight home from school. Not that it mattered. If her dad was in a foul mood, then he would punish her regardless of what had happened. It was just something that Beau was used to by this point.

So the next day, she made her way to the address that the very excitable Jester had given her over the phone.

It wasn't too far from Beau's place. In fact, Beau was surprised that someone else that lived in the Opal Archways would even consider the possibility of a rock band. Too pedestrian for the sorts of people that bought expensive Marquesian silks, and seemed to pride themselves on the basis of how many shiny gemstones they were wearing.

This part of the archways was a little nicer compared the bit that Beau lived in. You could actually see the archways here, the old stone eroded by sea breeze, giving the place a bit of character. It was a pretty cool place to skateboard, as long as the cops weren't around, which was rarely. They did love to harass people that loitered (especially people that looked like Beau).

The house was just as nice as Beau had expected. It looked like it was made of that same old stone, and must have been worth a shitton, given how big it was. Like, it wouldn't have been out of place on a postcard kind of expensive looking. If Jester lived here, she could've _bought_ a fucking drummer.

There were a couple of very out-of-place looking cars in the driveway. One was an olive-green color, and seemed to have a bunch of seashells glued to the bumper, and the other was a faded pink and ancient. If they'd been parked in a different part of the Opal Archways, then there definitely would have been neighbor complaints.

There was a sound coming from the slightly open garage. The sound of music.

Definitely not the sound Beau had been expecting. Generally, when she heard “rock band” she thought electric guitar, and heavy bass, and a catchy sort of rhythm. This was...not that.

Not that it was bad, or anything. It was a strangely ethereal sound, more of a gothic symphonic than a straight up rock.

It was pretty cool.

If Beau'd had a phone, she would have sent Jester a text, saying that she was outside. Instead, she walked up to the garage door, and knocked on it.

The music stopped.

'Oh, hiii Beauregard!' A familiar voice rang out, and a second later, Beau was greeted with the sight of an electric blue tiefling wearing a green and pink dress. 'Come in!' Mildly startled, Beau followed her, ducking to enter the garage.

The garage was....well, it was pretty fucking big. It wasn't messy, like most garages that Beau had seen. In fact, it looked like it was being used as a bedroom. There were two twin beds against perpendicular walls, and a desk covered in unfinished schoolwork. More importantly, though, there was a drum-kit. Decent brand, barely used. Not very well set up, Beau could tell, even from a very quick glance at it. The hi-hat was on the wrong side, and at the entirely wrong angle. Would maybe be okay for a lefty, but Beau had never been very good at playing the drums left-handed.

Apart from that, though, there was a band. Or at least, part of a band. There was a purple tiefling with a guitar (who was clearly trying not to look over at Beau and Jester), and Beau was surprised to see that it was the _only_ guitar. The rest of the instruments were...well, unexpected.

There was a tall (hot) viking looking chick with a gradient of black and white hair, and an even taller, pink-haired firbolg that was holding a fucking flute in his hand.

'It's so nice to meet you!' Jester said, and she took Beau's hand, and shook it, hard. 'I can already tell from your muscles that you're going to be a super good drummer.'

'Jester,' the half-orc at the microphone said, wearily. He gave Beau an apologetic grimace. 'She's said that to the last four people we've auditioned, and none of them had ever even seen a drumkit before. Had to borrow sticks and everything.' Beau was suddenly thankful that she had packed her sticks. One of them had a crack building down the side, but Beau didn't have the money to replace them. Seeing as how they were only about twenty gold, that was saying something. Her parents had cut off all forms of income that they couldn't control themselves.

'How long have you been playing?' the other tiefling demanded. He hadn't put down his guitar, and Beau immediately didn't like him. If there was a diva of this particular band, it would be him.

'Whoah, Molly.' The half-orc held out a hand. 'How about we do the _polite_ thing and introduce ourselves first. Then we can get down to business. It's nice to meet you Beauregard, my name's Fjord. I guess you'd say I'm the singer, but most everyone does some back-up vocals on some of the songs.' Interesting. He seemed to be downplaying his part considerably. 'Why don't we go around and everyone says who they are and what they play.' It was a little redundant, given that Beau had literally just watched them all use their instruments, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It made her feel like she was worthy of their attention.

Molly gave a slight sigh. 'My name's Molly,' he said. 'I play the guitar. Backing and rhythm, mostly. Yasha does the riffs.' He inclined his head towards the tall viking chick. She had been looking down almost the entire time Beau had been there, and now that she was finally making eye contact, Beau had to suck in a breath. One of her eyes was purple, and the other one was a light, blueish green. It was...honestly kind of beautiful.

'My name is Yasha,' she said, in a flat voice. 'I play the harp.'

'I—cool.' Beau felt her voice crack, and she could have kicked herself. _Way to make a good first impression, Lionett_. 'I've never seen a band with a harp in it before. You're really good at it.'

'She's _soo_ good,' Jester said. 'I play the keyboard, and sometimes we do duets! Everyone we talk to says they think we sound weird, but we just call it Graveyard Rock.'

'Uh huh,' Beau said. She was kind of still looking at Yasha, something that apparently hadn't gone unnoticed by a sneering Molly.

'I feel it might be pertinent to point out right off the bat that we have a very strict “no fucking anyone else in the band” policy,' he said. This was apparently a contentious topic, because almost immediately, Jester was on his case.

'Oh, so why are you fucking Caleb then?'

'Because he's not in the band,' Molly said, cheerfully. 'He's a roadie. That's different.' Beau raised an eyebrow. She was mildly embarrassed that he had seen right through her very thirsty looks, but intrigued by the fact that these guys had roadies.

'Molly, Caleb sets up our equipment, it's disrespectful to call him and Veth roadies.' As an aside to Beau, Fjord said, 'They do all our pyrotechnics. Anyway, we're getting off topic.' He gestured towards the tall firbolg, who had been watching proceedings with a lackadaisical sort of interest.

'Hi,' he said, waving with his flute. 'My name's Caduceus. I play the bone flute.' The flute, Beau was pretty sure, had been responsible for what had sounded like wailing. Like the sort of thing you might hear in a haunted house. It was a cool sound, and seemed like it was probably why they called it graveyard rock.

'Great,' Beau said. 'It's, ah....really cool to meet you all. As I said, my, uh...my name's Beauregard-Beau, and I've been playing the drums for a couple of years.' She felt her face go a little red. 'I started out on the snare drum in marching band, and it kind of went downhill from there.'

'Wait, you don't go to Nicodranas High, do you?' Jester asked, suddenly, and Beau remembered, too late, one of the topics of conversation that she'd been planning to avoid. She'd even changed out of her uniform, into the punk-rockiest clothing that she owned, for this meeting.

'I...no. I go to Cobalt Soul.' Cobalt Soul was the local private school, with its high brick walls, and unbearably stuffy uniforms. Beau couldn't count on all her fingers and toes the number of times she'd gotten detention for tying her skirt in a knot between her legs, just so it wasn't so godsdamned long. In the summer, it was unbearable.

There was a moment of awkward silence. There was a....not exactly a rivalry, but traditionally, there was no love lost between Nicodranas High and Cobalt Soul. Personally, Beau would have much preferred to go to Nicodranas High. 'Well _I'm_ home-schooled,' Jester told her. 'And Fjord's just graduated, and Molly and Yasha just moved here, and are redoing their final year so they can get their GEDs. You haven't met them yet, but Veth is in tenth grade, and Caleb got to graduate early because he's super smart. He's deciding which college offer he wants to take. We're not sure how old Caduceus is, because he doesn't know either, but we're pretty sure he's home-schooled, too.' Beau looked over, and Caduceus gave a genial smile, apparently either not interested in giving the game away, or not paying attention at all.

'O...kay,' Beau said. She hadn't exactly expected a life story, but she appreciated the deflection onto the other members of the band. 'So what're you called?'

There was a general sense of uncertainty at the question. 'We're still working on that one,' Fjord said, finally. 'Jester thinks we should be called the Orphanmakers, but that's a, uh...sore spot.' Beau had no idea why that was a sore spot, and frankly, she didn't quite care. What she really wanted was to get behind that kit, and start playing.

'Do you guys mind if I make some adjustments and then maybe warm up a bit?'

'Go right ahead.' Fjord gestured towards the drum throne. Beau moved the hi-hat over to where it would be next to her left foot, and adjusted the angle of the toms and the cymbals. She tapped the drum heads. A little out of tune, but she didn't have time to fix that to the way she liked it. This kit had a couple of extra things that Beau's didn't, like a cowbell, and a side-snare. Given the fancy house and the fancy garage, Beau got the distinct impression that whoever it was that had bought the kit, had simply gotten the most expensive one. It was really fucking nice, to be honest. It would be worthwhile making friends with these people just to use this drumkit.

Once it was set up to her liking, Beau went through a few basic beats. Kick, snare, kick, hat, kick, snare. Kick hat, snare hat, kick hat, snare hat. Kick, kick, snare. A bunch of paradiddles, and rudiments, and fills. And so on. If she was practicing, she would have moved on to one of the pieces she'd been trying to get the hang of, but since this was an audition...

'Why don't you guys play through one of your songs,' she told them. 'I'll get an ear for what I think might work, and then we can play it again as a group.'

Fjord looked mildly stunned. 'Uh, sure,' he said. 'Let's go for something different. We Shall Bloom on three?' he said, and there was a general mutter of agreement.

Beau sat on her throne, and listened. She had a notebook and pen out in front of her, ready to write down ideas. This one seemed a little more hopeful than the last. Something about the Wildmother, and growth, and all of those sorts of things. Beau liked it. It didn't need anything super flashy to overshadow the haunting nature of it, but it could use some thumps. Probably kick heavy. As they played, Beau couldn't help but stare at Yasha. The harpist was solely focused on her instrument, not even looking at her fellow musicians. Molly, on the other hand, seemed to be looking everywhere except at his guitar. He caught Beau's eye, and gave a knowing wink. Beau wasn't sure what to make of that.

They finished on a harp solo from Yasha, those enormous yet delicate hands pluck the strings like they were made of delicate flower petals, and and by the time it was done, Beau was pretty sure she was in love. Godsdamnit.

'Well?' Molly said, expectantly. Beau realized, suddenly, that all of them were staring at her.

'That was...I've got some ideas. When you're ready, kick it off again, and I'll come in.' Beau had no idea if she was ready or not, but if she didn't do it straight away, then she was sure she would chicken out.

'Al....right.' Fjord was clearly a little taken aback. It was a skill you learned quickly as a drummer, listening to the rest of the band, and figuring out what fit in the background. People that had never played drums didn't really get it. 'When you're ready, guys.'

Beau decided to keep it basic. Mostly kick and hi-hat, and some soft snare, generally following the rhythm that Molly was putting down. It probably sounded okay, but Beau was so focused on what she was doing, she didn't notice anything else. During Yasha's harp solo, she brought it down to a soft beat that lifted up the harp, rather than drown it out. As she played, she kept her eyes on Yasha. It was like there was an invisible aura surrounding her. Beau was utterly entranced.

So much so that when the song ended, and someone started clapping, she jumped.

'That was wonderful!' a voice said, and Beau looked to the door and saw a very attractive older tiefling woman, with red skin, and a lavender silk robe. Jester and Molly's mother, maybe? Were they even related? 'I see you have found yourselves a drummer.'

'We're still auditioning people,' Molly said quickly, and Beau resisted the urge to give him the finger. It was a fair point, but that didn't mean it didn't sting. They were perfectly within their rights to go ahead and pick someone else. It was certainly the sort of thing that Beau was used to.

Beau stood abruptly. She decided that she should probably leave before they all got sick of her.

The red tiefling in the doorway stepped forward. She held out a hand for Beau to shake. 'My name is Marion Lavorre,' she said. 'I'm Jester's mother.' Hmm. Not related to Molly then. Interesting. 'You look very familiar, dear, have we met?'

Beau suppressed a grimace, even as she shook Ms Lavorre's hand. She may have been a bit of a shit, but she knew better than to be a shit towards her friends' parents. 'You probably know my dad,' Beau said, in a voice that absolutely wasn't bitter. 'He's a wine dealer.' This seemed like the sort of place where they would talk to wine dealers.

Ms Lavorre's face turned that way that most people's did when they recalled an encounter with Thoreau Lionett. Like disgust with a very thin veneer of politeness to hide how much they had disliked the experience.

'Yeah, that's about how people usually react,' Beau said, dully. 'Anyway.' She put her drumsticks back into her bag. 'Let me know when you've made a decision.' Beau thought that Jester might have called out to her as she left, but she ignored it. She didn't need mollification (hah!).

It was just after five, and Beau had no intention of going home. She'd get in just as much trouble if she was an hour late, as if she was ten minutes late, so there was very little point rushing. She tooled around on her skateboard for a bit, popping ollies on the curb, and trying (read: failing) to grind along a stair rail.

It was six when she walked through the front door. 'Came off my board,' she told her father, showing him the long scrape down her forearm. It wasn't a lie. She'd been halfway home when she caught a bit of slick pavement, and wiped out. It had happened ten minutes ago, rather than an hour, but it at the very least might get her off her back.

Her father gave a barely concealed sigh. 'Next time, just walk.' He didn't confiscate her board. That was something. Beau was pretty sure he thought she'd mutiny if he took one more thing from her.

'Well I would have called, but you know...' Beau trailed off. It was a risky thing to say, and she could've sworn she saw a glint of anger in his eye, but there was no yelling. Beau went to her room before he could tell her to do it, and started on her math homework. Her brain was still half back at Jester's garage, a few blocks away, thinking about the possibility of playing in a band again. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed it until she'd gotten on the throne, and things just seemed to click.

But, as Molly had said, they clearly had more people to audition, and while Beau was pretty good, there were definitely people around who were much, much better, who had been drumming ever since they could grip something between their fingers, who instinctively knew what fills would work and what wouldn't, who knew how the fuck to play in a band that had a flute and a harp.

They probably weren't going to pick her.


	2. II

II

A few days passed, and Beau tried to put the audition out of her mind. Given that she hadn't given Jester a phone number (and didn't even really have access to one that she didn't have to sneak around to use), the only way she would find out was by calling.

It wasn't particularly something that Beau wanted to do, because if she called, then she'd find out the answer, and if she knew the answer, then maybe it was “No.”

She could just hear Jester's voice in her head now, far more cruel than the actual Jester had been. “Oh, sorry Beau we decided to go for someone else. You know, someone who actually knows how to play the drums!” The fake Jester gave a cold giggle.

Then there was Molly's voice (this one sounded probably about as annoying as the real Molly), saying “You know, they're much more pleasant than you are, too.”

The voices weren't new. Weren't unfamiliar. Both inside her head and out of it, Beau had spent most of her life being told that she wasn't good enough. There was a weird sort of cognitive dissonance between her bravado, and her self-esteem issues.

Basically, she was kind of a mess.

Beau would give it another three days, then she'd call. Really, though, Jester had her first name, and if Jester's mother really had had an encounter with Beau's dad, then she'd have her last name, too. Beau had just enough tech savvy to get around the website blocker her dad had put on her laptop, and be able to access Facebook. Not that she really had any friends on there anyway. She'd unfriended and blocked Tori, which left a couple of the other girls on the basketball team, some people from band, and a few of her judo sparring partners. She didn't even bother checking it, most days.

It was kind of pathetic, if she spent longer than thirty seconds thinking about it, so she tried not to think about it.

Instead, she went on with her life. She did her homework, she went to school, she got yelled at for making social studies notes during biology. The usual things. It wasn't until Grissen afternoon that things changed. Beau was just finishing up in judo when Dairon caught her attention from the door of the training room.

'Do you have a moment?' they asked. Beau looked down at her sweaty gi, blue belt slung over her shoulders. She stunk like she'd been rolling around in the mud, which didn't feel like it was too far from the truth.

'Can I have a shower first?'

Dairon bit back a mildly exasperated sigh. Ostensibly, they were one of the school's guidance counselors, but they also seemed to dabble in just about every other area of the administration, which meant that Beau, with her multitude of detentions, and her ridiculous extra-curriculars, and her pretty good grades, seemed to see a lot of them. “Exasperation” seemed to be her main mood. But, she was oddly parental towards Beau in a way that Beau's parents had utterly failed to be, so Beau didn't get too upset about it.

Ten minutes later, she was standing back at the gym entrance, with wet hair, and smelling mildly of shower gel and body spray. Dairon wrinkled her nose. So it might have been a little strong.

'A very insistent tiefling has been calling the school, trying to get a hold of you,' Dairon told Beau, wasting no time in getting straight to the point. 'From what I understand, she has tried the music department, and when that didn't work, went straight to the faculty. Something about a...band.' There was the mildest note of distaste in her voice.

'Oh, shit.' Beau hadn't forgotten about the band. In fact, it had been one of the few thoughts on her mind. She  _had_ forgotten that Jester seemed to be the sort of person that would track her down, rather than just wait for her to call.

'How did you know she was a tiefling?' was the only question that Beau could think to ask.

Dairon's face softened slightly. 'We had a very pleasant conversation, wherein she told me all about her mother, the Ruby of the Sea.'

Beau snorted slightly. Even though she'd only met Jester once, she  _definitely_ thought that Jester was the sort of person that would be able to break down Dairon's walls.  _The Ruby of the Sea_ , though...Beau was sure she'd heard that name before, but didn't quite know where. Apparently it was enough for Dairon to know that Jester was a tiefling, though.

'Be that as it may,' Dairon said, and suddenly, she was all frowny angles again, 'She said she would be coming by the school to come and see you.' Beau's heart jumped. 'I did tell her that it would be a violation of our privacy policies—'

'She  _what?_ ' Beau was very glad she'd had a shower, now. Less glad that she'd changed back into her school uniform. Cobalt Soul had very strict rules about the clothes they were allowed to go home in. Beau had gotten in trouble many times for not changing out of her sports clothes after practices. It was a stupid rule, and it felt even stupider today. 'When?'

Dairon's answer had Beau rushing off without even stopping to say goodbye. It was rude of her, sure, and Beau was sure she would regret it later, but she wanted to get ahead of this. Whatever happened, she didn't want to be on the back foot.

Beau hadn't asked, but she assumed the Jester would be coming to the main entrance of the school. There were other gates around the place; the faculty carpark, the sport fields, plus a multitude of others, but the main entrance was where there was the large blue and gray sign that read “Cobalt Soul Academy,” underneath a marble archway. Nicodranas was big on archways. It was just as pretentious and elitist as it sounded, and Beau made a point to avoid walking through it when possible, but today, she didn't even think about it.

At the gate, there were three people waiting for her. Jester was there, but so were Yasha and Molly. Beau felt a rush of color in her cheeks. They were all in mufti, and here she was looking like a fucking idiot in her calf-length skirt and white button-down blouse.

'Wow,' Molly said, and lowered his sunglasses. Beau gave him the finger. She tried not to let her gaze drift to Yasha, who was wearing a tight black t-shirt that hid absolutely nothing of her amazing biceps.

'Hey, you wanted to get in contact with me,' Beau said, angrily, giving Molly a glare. 'I'll walk away right now, if you want.'

'I have something for you,' Jester said, and out of nowhere, she produced a blueberry cupcake. Beau stared at it. It was still a little warm, like it had been just recently baked. The smell was intoxicating. Beau was very tempted to take a bit right then and there; it was the sort of thing that her parents would never buy, and certainly never make.

'Uh...thanks.' Beau frowned. Surely they hadn't come all the way over here (Nicodranas High was on the other side of town, and Jester's place wasn't exactly close) just to give her a cupcake.

'And also these!' Jester announced, with a flourish, and thrust a brand new pair of drumsticks into Beau's hand. 'We noticed that like...yours were getting really old, and I guess this is our way of saying...will you please drum for us?'

Beau wasn't sure how she was supposed to say no to that. Especially not given that the drumsticks were a pretty decent brand, and were the 5Bs that she was most comfortable using, and, now that she was paying attention, seemed to have her name engraved on them with a wood-burning tool. Not her last name, even though she had mentioned it to them; just “Beau” in very neat printing. Probably Yasha's, given that both Jester and Molly seemed like the sort of people that would have ridiculous, cutesy handwriting.

'You were pretty sure I was gonna say yes, huh?' Beau said. She had to try very hard to suppress the grin she desperately wanted to give. Not once in eighteen years had anyone given her such a thoughtful gift. Not even her parents, who thought that an ideal birthday or Barren Eve present would be something that would help her study harder, or help out with the family business. The last gift they'd given her had been taking away her drum-kit.

'Well of  _course_ you were going to say yes.' Jester gave a smile, as if it was obvious. Beau kind of wished that there were other people in the world that had as much faith in her. Yasha elbowed Molly in the stomach.

'Oof,' he said. 'Hey, alright.' He looked at Beau. 'Sorry I acted like a dick towards you.' He sighed. 'It was very rude, and I'll never do it again, as long as you can keep a beat.'

'I dunno,' Beau shrugged. 'You'd better let me practice with my knuckles. A little pop pop, y'know?' To her surprise (and maybe a little bit also relief) Molly grinned. She wasn't entirely sure that she liked him yet, but at the very least, she was beginning to sort of understand him. They had a similar sort of “use insults as a shield for real feelings” habit.

Now that she was technically in the band, though... 'Am I allowed to make suggestions?' It was probably too soon to be using the word criticisms.

'Of course!' Jester said, brightly. Molly's eyes narrowed. 'If there are like...songs you've written, or things you want to play...'

'Actually, what I was going to say—' Beau turned rather than look at Molly's accusatory face. '—is that y—we really need a bass player. Like, the sound is great, but it's missing—'

'Hah!' Beau jumped and turned, fist half-clenched. Molly's expression had rapidly shifted from suspicious, to triumphant. 'Didn't I fucking tell you! We need a bass player before we need a drummer, but  _no_ let's not listen to the only person that's actually on a guitar that needs to replicate all these sounds we don't have.'

Beau was torn between vindication, and being mildly upset that she apparently agreed with Molly on something. She decided to take it as a win. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yasha roll her eyes, half-smiling.

'Yeah, but it's _way_ harder to find a drummer,' Jester pouted. 'We were so lucky that we got the best one in Nicodranas.' Beau thought that was a bit of a stretch. She hadn't been doing it for that long, and she was still mostly working on pretty basic beats and fills. The mere fact that Jester was willing to lie about it though somehow warmed her heart a little. No-one had ever cared enough to lie. 'You don't know any bass players, do you?' The question was directed at Beau, who froze slightly. The honest answer was “yes,” but given how that had ended, she didn't particularly want any of those people to have anything to do with her.

Not that she was any better of a person than they were, but she tried to avoid the harder drugs, and if she was going to steal from someone, she preferred it to be family. When Tori's friends had talked about things like turning over gas stations, and dealing in more amounts of coke than Beau had ever seen in her life, she noped the fuck out of there.

Really, she should have noped out of the whole thing a lot earlier. If Tori hadn't convinced her to try and steal her Dad's wine, then she wouldn't have been in this stupid situation.

Of course, that also meant that she wouldn't have apparently joined a band and made what could potentially be some friends that weren't likely to try and rob her while she slept. Well, Molly might, but the rest of them seemed okay.

'So like, we were thinking,' Jester continued, apparently deciding that they had moved on from the discussion about having a bass player, 'That this weekend we should have like a full band practice. You can meet Caleb and Veth, and we can have pizza, and it'll be really cool.'

Beau didn't want to admit how good that sounded. She didn't remember the last time she'd been invited to someone else's house for something other than sex or crime. She wasn't sure if it was a normal thing or not. Weren't people supposed to make sure they liked you before inviting you around for pizza? Though if it was a band, that probably made it different. It wasn't as though they could have a practice without inviting her around.

'When?' was the only question Beau could think to ask.

Yulisen at 11 o'clock was the answer that they decided upon. Beau had a basketball game on Folsen night, but not a whole lot else. Whether or not she was even _allowed_ out would be the real question, but Beau was pretty sure that she could think up an effective lie. As long as all of her homework was done, he hopefully wouldn't get too up in arms about it.

'How do we get in contact with you?' Yasha asked, and Beau's heart gave a tiny little leap. It was the first thing she'd said since Beau had arrived. 'You do not have a phone?'

'Ah...not right now,' Beau admitted. She tried not to think about the fact that Yasha had pretty much just asked for her phone number. 'It's complicated.'

'Do you need a burner?' Molly offered. 'Because I have a burner.' Beau _definitely_ didn't want to think about why Molly had a burner. She was also pretty sure that her Dad would straight up murder her if he found a secret phone. As much as she hated to admit it, Facebook was probably the easiest way.

'Then I will send you a friend request!' Jester said, brightly. In a much lower, much more conniving sort of tone, she added (while glaring at Molly,) 'We will _all_ send you a friend request.'

Beau didn't linger. Her Dad absolutely knew what time judo practice finished, and if she was too late, then he would have Words for her. She gave a genuine grin as she said goodbye to Jester, Molly and Yasha, and couldn't help but try and catch Yasha's gaze as they parted ways.

Yasha, sadly, didn't seem to notice, but it was with a slight spring in her step, and a warmth in her heart that Beau walked home. Whatever he threw at her, she could handle it.


	3. III

III.

Beau wasn't late, but her father seemed to be on edge slightly anyway. She knew better than to think that she could let her guard down. Things always seemed to change at the slightest provocation.

That was something that Thoreau Lionett was _really_ good at that. Being not unreasonable, but maybe a little bit strict to a point, and then apparently bottling all of his anger up until it reached a breaking point, and he took it out on Beau. Mostly Beau. Sometimes her mother. Never TJ. Never mind that Beau would rather let herself get beaten to a pulp than let it happen, but TJ was his father's perfect little golden child, too young to talk back, and too innocent to understand what was going on around him.

Beau loved him more than anything else in the world.

He was the only person in that stupid fucking house that didn't treat her like she was a mistake, a burden. He would come into her room while she was doing homework to play with his toys, and insist that Beau be the one to read him his bedtime story.

Beau was sure that would all change. Soon enough, under their parents' influence, he would treat her the same way that they did, but for now...

She rushed through her Bio homework, and mulled over some math that had been giving her trouble, while TJ played with wooden trains on the carpeted floor. It was one of the few things that Beau knew she would miss when she finally managed to leave this place, hopefully sometime not long after graduation. Beau missed the sound of happy toddler burbles after her mother came to take TJ to bed.

With TJ gone, and her parents both off doing their own thing, Beau was pretty sure she had a chance to get some quick shenanigans in. She booted up her laptop, and navigated to a proxy server in the browser. Beau was very grateful that her parents weren't exactly tech-savvy, and had put what amounted to a curtain around the websites they didn't want Beau visiting. Admittedly, _she_ wasn't very tech-savvy either, and one of Tori's shadier friends had taught her how to get around it. Beau was pretty sure he was some variety of hacker.

Still, if it let her around some of her father's more draconic rules for living in the house, then she wasn't going to argue.

It was barely three hours since Beau had parted ways with Jester, Molly and Yasha, and yet she already had two brand new friend requests. It had definitely been a while since someone had sent her one.

The first, predictably, was from Jester. The second was from Fjord. Clearly Jester had been talking with people. Beau was a little upset that Yasha hadn't sent one. The fact that Molly hadn't didn't surprise her, but she'd thought that she'd gotten along pretty well with Yasha.

In any case, she accepted the two requests, and was almost immediately inundated with messages.

_Beau!_

_I found you!_

_Ohmygod, I love your profile pic, you look so cool! But you hardly post anything!_

Beau blinked. That was about three more exclamation points than was probably necessary. Jester did seem to have an enthusiasm that was almost infectious. Beau usually found herself exhausted by people that were this bubbly, but in this case...well, it was kind of endearing.

_Ah, yeah, I don't really get on here much. But since I don't have a phone atm, it's the easiest way to contact me._

_Why don't you have a phone? They're not that expensive, you know._

_Long story._ Beau absolutely did not want to go into the boring, intimate sort of details of her life with these people that she barely knew. It was bad enough that her dad was even exerting this kind of control over her, without Beau having to tell people about it. It would come up, she was sure, in due course.

Now that she had Jester there, though, there was something that Beau really, really needed to know about.

_So Dairon told me that your Mom is the Ruby of the Sea, like it's supposed to mean something..._

Beau wasn't even sure that Dairon had given Jester her name, but Beau was curious to a fault, and Jester did seem like the sort of person that might tell anyone anything.

_Ohmygosh, you've never heard of the Ruby of the Sea? She's like...super super famous._

_Okay, is she like...an actress or something? What does she do?_

Beau hated to admit, she was intrigued about her new friends. Friends? Friends. She wasn't entirely sure if they actually _were_ her friends yet, but it sounded better than saying intrigued about “these people from this band that I joined to use a drum kit and also get away from crippling loneliness.”

_Okay, it's like...she “spends time” with people for money, you know? She works at the Lavish Chateau._

Ohhhhh _._

The Lavish Chateau, Beau _had_ heard of. It was a very old, very famous building that wasn't too far from Jester's house (which made sense if her mom worked there). The more conservative members of the community occasionally protested to the Nicodranas City Council, about how a business like that was damaging to the reputation of the City. Somehow, the protests always went away.

That was pretty cool. Way more counterculture than anything anyone in Beau's family did. Beau's dad spent half his life sucking up to the people in local government, and she wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't crossed the line into outright bribery. Ostensibly, she worked for him, an unpaid “volunteer” that did the odd jobs he didn't want to pay anyone else to do. Once a week or so, Beau had to go with him to the warehouses and do whatever needed to be done. “Character building,” her father called it. “Demeaning,” was the word that Beau preferred to use. Like punishing a dog that had shit in the house by rubbing its nose in it.

That, she was sure, was the point.

_So should I bring anything on Yulisen?_

_Just yourself!_ Jester's answer was almost immediate. Like she actually _wanted_ to talk to Beau. It was a new and confusing experience, and Beau was a little unsure whether she liked it or not. It took a lot of mental energy to interpret peoples' intent and tone over text. She was bad enough at it in person. But, so far, Jester seemed entirely sincere, which was somehow even scarier than the alternative. After shutting down the laptop and getting ready for bed, Beau lay awake for a very long time, sticks in hand, trying to practice soft strokes. She had a problem where everything she hit seemed to hit at the same volume, like she was trying to punch her way through the kit. Something she always got in trouble for at band practice (“Ghost notes, Beauregard, Not T-Rex notes!”). Sometimes, drums were easier than people. Sometimes they weren't.

Beau decided, for the moment, to take her at face value. Something she definitely couldn't afford to do with everyone.

One person in particular.

Yulisen morning at 10.30, Beau packed her bag. There wasn't exactly much to pack. Drumsticks, wallet (I.D., a tiny bit of cash, no bank cards), keys. Notebook and pen, sunglasses. Her skateboard she usually strapped to the outside of her pack, but with hardly anything else in it, the weight balance was off.

Beau hadn't asked if she was allowed to go out. It was always a weird sort of thing, where her father much preferred it if she wasn't around, but also wanted to make sure that he was exerting as much control over her life as possible. Some days, it was easier for Beau to just leave, and deal with the consequences when she got back.

As long as he wasn't downstairs, she might be able to—'Where are you going?'

_Fuck_.

Beau bit back a sigh. She knew if she sighed, it would be seen as more disrespectful than if she had said nothing at all.

'Going to a friend's place,' she said. Not a lie. Less likely to get her into trouble than “band practice.” Not that she was specifically banned from being in a band, no pun intended. He just didn't think that it was a suitable way for Beau to be spending her time. Yet another reason why they had taken her kit, beyond the goal of “make Beau miserable.”

Her father's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Do I know this friend?' he asked. 'Where do they live?'

'Near the Archways,' Beau told him. He straightened suddenly. He had been expecting, she knew, to say somewhere like “the skew” or “the docks.” He had been expecting somewhere with riff-raff. His brow furrowed even further than it already was.

'This friend doesn't go to your school, do they?' What he really meant was “I didn't think you had any friends.” He never said it in so many words, but Beau had come to understand what he meant.

Beau shook her head. 'She has tutors and stuff.' That certainly sounded better than saying “she's home-schooled.” She bit her lip, wondering if she wanted to tell him. It would certainly make things a lot easier, especially given Beau knew that he had dealt with Jester's mother before. 'Her mom's the Ruby of the Sea.' There it was. Thoreau's eyes gleamed with something that looked a lot like opportunity. Vocation aside, the Ruby of the Sea was apparently a very influential woman with a lot of access to powerful and important people. Never mind if she thought Thoreau was kind of a sleazebag.

'Do you want me to drive you? I can put your board in the back of the car.' He was in a deceptively good mood, but Beau knew how fast those moods could change. Especially if they had to endure a car ride together. Even five minutes in a confined space was enough to send them both over the edge.

'I'm meeting up with someone else to ride there,' Beau told him. It was a bald-faced lie, but he didn't question it. Probably because he was too caught up with the fact that Beau had an in with one of the most famous people in Nicodranas. Someone that apparently everyone _other_ than Beau knew about.

'Alright then.' He sighed. 'Let me know if you need a ride home. Your mother and I were planning on going out for dinner, so we'll need someone to look after Thoreau Junior.'

'I'll be home before five,' Beau told him. Not because she was trying extra hard to be obedient or anything, but because she didn't want to brave the Nicodranas footpaths under cover of darkness. Her wrist was still sort of hurting from the last time she'd done it.

'Right.' Her father clearly wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying at all. 'And Beauregard. If you get an opportunity, don't forget to make sure she knows about our newest vintages.'

Beau rolled her eyes, but thankfully, her father wasn't looking. She was pretty sure the Ruby of the Sea didn't give a flying fuck about this year's Purple Cinder wine.

It wasn't far to Jester's place, but Beau took her time. As it got closer to eleven o'clock, she was getting strangely nervous. When she'd first met the rest of them, they were judging her on her drumming ability, which was okay. Today, they'd be judging her as a person. That was a much more nebulous situation. Unlike Jester, Beau wasn't a person that people just liked.

They didn't seem like the sort that would kick her out of the band just because she was bad with people, but Beau had been wrong about people before.

Once again, the garage was slightly open. Instead of knocking, Beau crouched in and under, a vestige of the sort of flexibility she'd had doing gymnastics as a child. It had been fucking awful (“Stand straight, Beauregard. Toes pointed, Beauregard.”) but it had given her a fluidity of movement that was surprisingly helpful for things she enjoyed far more.

Yasha and Molly were already there. Or...Beau frowned. Molly was sprawled out on one of the twin beds, which, know that Beau actually paid attention to it, had a bright purple bedspread. The other one was navy blue, and had a cross-legged Yasha on it, tuning her harp. Jester ran off to go and get drinks, leaving Beau alone with Yasha and Molly.

'Do you guys live here?' she blurted out, before she could stop herself. She didn't know why she hadn't figured it out before. She had just sort of assumed that they liked hanging out with Jester, which wasn't an unfair assumption to make.

'Well it's either that, or foster care,' Molly said, blithely. Beau felt a twinge of guilt. 'Given, you know...Yasha's a Xhorhasian refugee, and I'm an ineffable mystery.'

'I'm pretty sure you're effable,' Beau snapped back at him, and kind of felt like a dick for doing so. They probably didn't have any family. Then – Beau thought of her own family – that wasn't always the worst thing.

'Thank-you,' Molly said, in the sort of voice that suggested he very much knew what she had meant, but had purposefully decided to take it the other way. 'There is at least one person in the world that agrees with you.'

'Ew,' Beau grimaced, and she wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but she was pretty sure Yasha did, too. 'You are definitely not my type, and I've never met your boyfriend, but I know for a fact that he's not my type either.'

'What is your type?' Yasha asked. Her voice was soft, and if Beau hadn't seen both of Molly's eyebrows raise up into his hairline, she would have thought that she'd been imagining the question.

Beau gave her a look, suddenly overcome by a wave of foolish bravado. 'Oh, you know. About six foot, muscular, great tits.' Yasha blushed, but she was definitely smiling. Molly, on the other hand, gagged.

'Better watch out, Yasha,' he said, warningly. Yasha was very obviously avoiding eye contact with either of them.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said. Beau wondered – slightly horrified – if she'd made Yasha uncomfortable. She did have a very unfortunate habit of stepping over the line sometimes, not quite parsing the whole “appropriate social behavior” thing. It had definitely gotten her into trouble before. She felt like a even more of a dick than she did before.

'Sorry,' Beau said, putting on a grin that was very, very forced. 'I, um...not into dudes. At all.'

There was a heavy, awkward moment during which none of them said anything, before Jester burst back into the garage, bearing a large bottle of lemonade, and several glasses.

Over the next half an hour or so, the rest of the band trickled in. Caduceus was next to arrive, and Beau was almost certain that the sweet smell that lingered around him was pot smoke. She wasn't sure any of the rest of them would have smoked. Maybe Molly, though judging by his intricately embroidered coat, he was probably more into hallucinogens. Beau could dig it. She'd done acid once or twice, but only ever with other people.

After Caduceus, two people that Beau hadn't met showed up. A scruffy human guy, about Beau's age, and a halfling girl that looked a few years younger. Veth and Caleb, Beau assumed. Jester introduced them with great enthusiasm (“oh my god, just wait until you see their light shows!”). Fjord was the last to arrive, and he came bearing gifts.

There was pizza, and garlic bread, and more lemonade. Beau knew at least half the band (her, Fjord, and maybe Yasha and Caduceus) were old enough to drink, but it seemed like it would be in poor taste to get wasted in Jester's mom's house. Besides, the cops in Nicodranas were absolutely the kind of cops that would breathalyze a skateboarder.

Takeout pizza was just another one of those things that Beau's parents refused to get. Not that they would ever stoop as low as having homemade pizza, either, and it definitely wasn't the kind of thing that was on the menu at the Cobalt Soul academy. If Beau wanted pizza, she had to by it herself from those one-silver-a-slice places down on the docks with cracked red pleather booths, and ancient arcade games, and ice-cream machines that were broken more often than not. Beau had gotten really good at the fighting game at one of them(“Can you defeat the Braving Grounds?!”), and the high score had attributed to “BFL” for almost six months. It had taken well over an hour, and like, a hundred copper to get it, but it was worth it.

She got the distinct impression that this session had been more about the pizza and hanging out than it was about practicing, and honestly...she was kind of okay with that. Beau wasn't sure she'd ever really _had_ a friend that she could just...hang out with, let alone seven of them. The fact that they were doing this to welcome her into the band did funny things to Beau's heart.

Caleb and Veth were....interesting. Beau had heard things from the other group members (Molly, mostly) about them. She had sort of assumed that anyone that was willing to fuck Molly would be somehow just as insufferable and ostentatious, but she was somewhat taken aback. Caleb was only a few inches taller than her, with bright orange hair that Beau's mother would have called unfortunate. Even though it was getting close to summer, he was wearing a well-worn duster coat that seemed to be full to the brim with all sorts of things. Beau saw him stuff a couple of slices of garlic bread into one of the pockets.

Veth was at least a full foot shorter than any of the rest of the group, and was wearing a bright yellow dress. Beau couldn't quite tell if she was seven, or seventeen. The necklace of buttons said seven, but the flask that she clearly thought she was hiding said seventeen. Either way, not really Beau's problem. She'd been sneaking her dad's booze since long before she'd reached the legal drinking age.

Caleb showed Beau their lighting rig, which had also clearly been purchased by Jester's mother, but this, at least, had been heavily modified. There were more than a few things on it that Beau was pretty sure weren't even legal, let alone standard issue. The fire department, at least, would certainly have something to say about it. Pretty cool though, really. There was a chick Beau knew down by the Open Quay that sold some really fucking dope fireworks. She and Tori had set some off once up by the Mother's Lighthouse, and very narrowly avoided a night in the watch-house. It was one of those memories that reminded Beau of why she had fallen for Tori in the first place. Carefree, teenage fun, unbridled by weird drama from Tori's creepy friends, and the expectation that Beau would put her life at risk for a quick score.

Either way, very cool.

Beau was having such a good time, that before she even really noticed, it was four forty-five.

_Fuck_.

'I've got to go,' she said, suddenly, packing up her shit, and tossing it into her bag. When she checked her watch, she'd been midway through a conversation with Caduceus about edibles. 'My dad's gonna kill me.'

Beau hardly even waited for a goodbye, ducking under the garage door and kicking off on her board before she'd even gotten her bag done all the way up. With any luck, she would only be a couple of minutes late.


	4. IV

IV

'Beau, wait!' Jester's voice called out after Beau. In spite of herself, Beau stopped. She'd done the thing again, where she'd been super rude without really realizing it. If she fucked around, she'd be late, but...but she didn't want her new friends to think she was an asshole.

She stopped.

Turned.

Jester had followed her out of the garage, and so, to her surprise, had Molly. It was just the two of them, though. Beau half wondered if they'd drawn the short straws.

'Beau is everything okay?' Jester asked. She actually looked really, really concerned. 'You ran off so quickly.'

'Yeah, I...I told my dad I'd be home by five. I have to babysit tonight. I'm gonna be late.'

'Aw.' Jester made a very exaggerated sad face. 'You can totally leave your brother or sister at home alone.'

Beau grinned slightly. 'I mean, he's three, so...'

'Oh.'

Really, it wasn't as though there would be that much to do anyway. Watch a cartoon, read a bedtime story, make sure the house didn't burn down. Beau was pretty sure even she was capable of that. It would at the very least give her an excuse to not do her History homework. It had been far easier before she'd taken the AP tests, but her father had insisted on it., but more importantly, he had also paid for it. Beau still wasn't sure it was worth it, given that it now meant she had twice as much homework that was ten times as difficult. As if she cared what factors led to the annexing of the Kryn court.

Beau stared at her feet. 'But, you know, it was really cool hanging with you guys and stuff. Thanks for inviting me.' Beau was entirely sure, now that she thought about it, that she'd never actually been invited to anything in her life (except maybe the obligatory grade-school “invite the whole class” birthday parties, the invitations for which somehow petered off once people got to know her).

'Like it or not, you're one of us now.' Molly clapped Beau on the shoulder. 'Warts and all.' The fact that it was Molly saying this somehow meant a lot more than if any of the rest of them had said it. He was a much worse liar, for one thing. For another, he didn't have any reason to pretend that he liked her.

'Anyway, if you like...have recordings of some of your stuff, I can listen to them, and work on some drum parts.' She may not have had access to drums, but there was a program she had on her laptop where she could at least work on sounds. YouTube was also incredibly handy for looking up beats and fills. It wasn't ideal to practice without a kit, but it was possible. All you really needed was to hit something that had a little bit of give. Pillows tended to work.

'We have some recordings somewhere,' Molly told her. 'I'll get Caleb to send them to you.' He was giving Beau a curious look that she didn't quite have time to process. She had to run. Still, there was just enough time to let Jester give her a very tight hug, before she skated away once more. It was only a mile or so to Beau's place from here, and she was pretty fast on the board when she needed to be.

Even still, Beau raced through the door at five minutes past five, sweating like an animal. She was five minutes late, which may or may not be a big deal. It really depended on what kind of mood her dad was in.

He was standing in the hallway, fixing his cuff-links. Her gave a stern nod, and a pointed look at his watch, but said nothing. Well, could have been worse. That was his subtle way of saying that he noticed, but that he wasn't going to punish her for it this time, out of the goodness of his heart. Or because he didn't want to ruin dinner. Whatever. More than likely, it would make the list of things that he was yelling about the next time she committed some minor infraction, like forgetting to take out the trash, or getting a B minus on an essay.

It was a near miracle that he didn't know anything about the things that  _were_ legitimate offenses. The sort of things that he would probably kick her out onto her ass if he knew about them. There were far too many of these, and Beau was getting reasonably good at hiding them.

The entire atmosphere of the house changed once her parents left. TJ had already had his bath and his dinner, and was perfectly willing to play with his toys while Beau say cross-legged on his bed doing her homework (“Name three ways in which the Calamity shaped modern-day Exandria.”) At seven o'clock, she read him a story about a train and some horses that was frankly terrible, but seemed to be his favorite.

'Goodnight, little man.' Beau kissed her brother on the forehead. 'See you in the morning, yeah?'

'G'night Beau.' TJ was already sucking on his bedspread. Beau gently pulled it out. She couldn't imagine it would go down well if TJ managed to choke to death on her watch. 'C'we go to the park tomorrow?'

'We'll see,' Beau told him. That would be more a question of “would they be allowed to go to the park.” Da'leysen generally meant that Beau had to help her dad with business stuff (“you earn your keep, after the stunt you pulled, Beauregard,”) but if it was TJ asking, then he might relent.

The nightlight stayed on, and Beau retreated to her own bedroom just across the hall, the door open. If TJ called out – if he needed to go potty, or anything else – she would hear it. He was usually pretty good at sleeping the night through. Occasionally, he'd wake from a nightmare, and have to be reassured with a hug, and gentle pats on the back, but Beau was far better than either of her parents at this. She didn't think her father had ever even tried it.

Generally, when her parents went out for dinner on Yulisen night, they weren't back until well after midnight. Beau had plenty of time to do whatever it was that she wanted to do, which honestly, wasn't much. She could have broken into the cellar, to retrieve her drum kit, or into her dad's desk, to retrieve her phone, but neither of those options were exactly practical. He used that desk every day, and would definitely notice if there was something missing. The drum kit, she couldn't exactly hide anywhere.

Really, though, even the idea of a more daring attempt at rebellion seemed to make her feel flat lately. What would the point of stealing her phone back be, if she didn't have anyone to call. Her new friends were pretty cool, but she wasn't anywhere near the point where she could call one of them and spend an hour and a half talking about nothing, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

The stupid thing was, she really missed Tori. She missed the thrill of climbing out her bedroom window at two in the morning, and greeting Tori with a kiss under a flickering streetlight. Missed making out with her on a park bench, and snuggling up to her under the covers after they watched some shitty horror movie for the hundredth time.

In hindsight, they had been terrible for each other. Convincing each other to do dangerous, stupid shit that they never would otherwise, and paying the price for it. Beau knew that she was better off without Tori (and Tori was better off without her) but she still couldn't help but think about the good times. The times that proved that there was someone out there in the world capable of loving her.

All that had gone to the hells in a hand-basket, though.

Beau tooled around on her laptop for the rest of the night, accepting two more friend requests (Caleb and Molly, still radio silence from Yasha) and made some half-hearted attempts at college applications. Her father was insistent that she study business and continue to work in his company, but Beau was of the opinion that she would literally rather go and live on the street than do that.

She knew what it was, of course. Just another one of the ways he insisted on controlling her life.

The next day, Beau took TJ to the park. It had taken no small amount of convincing, plus TJ's very liberal and very effective use of puppy dog eyes. (“Please daddy,  _pleaaase_ .”) They got half an hour. Enough time to go on the swings, and the see-saw, and have a few goes down the slide. TJ at least seemed to be slowly starting to understand that bad things might happen if they were late, and didn't make any fuss when Beau told him it was time to leave. Once they'd been late because TJ had wanted to follow a frog, and it happened to have been a day in which her father was in a bad mood. It hadn't ended well.

So, if Beau was going to deliberately piss off her father, she didn't want to involve TJ in it.

In the afternoon, Beau paid her penance. Frankly, she was of the opinion that her penance was well paid already. He had already taken away almost anything that made her happy. This, he called character building, the same way that everything else was apparently character building. Beau was pretty sure he just didn't want to pay someone to do it. In any case, she did learn a lot (including how to steal next time in a way that she wouldn't get caught).

'Finished this one.' Beau closed the ledger, and put it down maybe a little too heavily on her desk. 'No issues.'

'Don't slam things, Beauregard,' her father said. Beau bit her lip, knowing that if she responded, she would say something that she regretted. 'Have you finished the first quarter, too?'

'Yes.'

'Don't be so petulant.'

Beau gave her eyes a light roll. “Petulant” in her father's words meant “not grovelling at my feet at every possible opportunity,” in which case she spent her entire fucking life being petulant, which probably wasn't too far outside the realm of possibility. 'Is there anything else that needs to be done?'

Thoreau thought on it for a moment. More than likely, he was thinking of things that she could do, just to make her do them. 'Check the inventory for the Kamordah warehouse,' he told her. 'Last time I was there, they were running low on bottles, and I don't trust that Lightbridge hasn't screwed that up again, too.'

He could have so easily checked the inventory himself, but Beau decided against mentioning that. Whenever she questioned what he asked her to do, he would start threatening to press charges for her skimming escapades. It wasn't as though she could call him out on his blackmail attempts, given that she knew he would absolutely follow through with those threats.

The fact that he was still very keen to get into the good graces of Jester's mother (who was apparently someone that was influential in those sort of circles) granted Beau some small measure of leniency. As long as Beau said she was going out with Jester, she was allowed. But, going out with Jester meant that Molly and Yasha came too, and if Molly came, then Caleb came, and if Caleb came, then Veth would come. By that point, it was easy enough to just make it a full group endeavor.

The eight of them squeezed into two cars (driven by Fjord and Caleb) the following Folsen night, and hit up the Nicodranas Mall. It wasn't the sort of place that Beau's parents would go (far too pedestrian), but she found herself trying to hide behind Caduceus at every corner, just in case. Though she had technically been given permission, she still didn't think it would go down too well. Hanging with riff-raff like tieflings and half-orcs. Thoreau Lionett was nothing if not a hypocrite.

They went to the movies (Beau chickened out on trying to sit next to Yasha and sat next to Caleb instead), and afterwards, had three very large platters of nachos at a local restaurant. Beau wasn't sure when she'd last had such a good time. That was pretty depressing.

On the whole, Beau decided her best option would be to walk home from Jester's house. No offense meant to Caleb or Fjord (and she meant that with the utmost sincerity), but if her father saw them dropping her off in those cars, then he would have had words about it, regardless of how early she'd gotten home. Caleb would have been slightly less objectionable than Fjord, by virtue of the fact that he was human. After everything that had happened, the fact that Beau's father hadn't found out exactly who Tori was to Beau had been a godsend then, but did not work in her favor now. That was definitely a can of worms that Beau didn't even want to consider opening. Not while she was still living at home, and if she was honest, probably not ever.

If not for TJ, Beau would have certainly cut ties with her parents already, and even then, there had been some close calls.

One day, maybe things would be better – already they were starting to look up – but for now...well, for now, Beau took things one day at a time.


	5. V

V

Beau rose early to the sight of vivid orange rays piercing through her bedroom window.

Somewhere, at some point in her life, she had gotten used to getting up early, whether because she no longer had a phone to distract her from falling asleep every night, or because she so often had early morning activities at school. In any case Beau pulled herself out of bed, and put on her running clothes.

It had taken several months (and a school-letterheaded missive from Dairon) for Beau to be allowed out for a run in the mornings. The letter had been a bunch of (not untrue) faff about how Beau needed to ensure that she kept up her physical fitness levels to ensure continued performance in sporting activities. The fact that she'd even needed a fucking letter was the dumbest thing in the godsdamned world.

Dairon had raised a very thin eyebrow when Beau asked them to write it. The response she gave was not one that Beau had expected. 'You know, Beauregard, if you would like, there are many vocational opportunities for people in your situation. I can make some calls.' Beau had known Dairon long enough to know that she meant “if you want to find a job and get out of there, I can probably help you.”

As tempting as it was, Beau was not even close to being at that point yet. She could deal with the passive-aggressiveness and the regular-aggressiveness, and the mood swings, as long as it meant she could protect her brother, and to maybe a lesser extent, her mother. Her mother who hadn't done a damn fucking thing to protect her, who had been utterly silent throughout the whole Tori-wine-jail drama, and had not made a single attempt at reining Thoreau in for anything else.

Beau knew that her mother was afraid, but for some reason that made her even angrier. Fear wasn't a feeling that Beau could afford to let take over. Fear was what would make it even harder to get through all of this.

All that aside, Beau was thus well within her rights to be going through the front door at six o'clock in the morning, headphones in. As with everything though, she felt a deep sense of foreboding in her chest as she did it.

That feeling never really went away.

Usually, Beau went around the block a few times, to a tiny park that didn't have much foot traffic. She was feeling a little more adventurous this morning, and decided to go to the big park that was close to the Archways proper. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that it was near Jester's house. None of them would be up at this time of morning anyway.

At least that was what Beau thought.

She did two laps of the park, stopping each time and the fancy new pull-up bars that the council had installed. They definitely didn't have anything like this down at the Skew. Your tax dollars and wealth gap at work. It wasn't quite as good as a full weights session, but Beau still managed to get a nice pump going. She was halfway into her second set of chin-ups when she saw Yasha.

Beau slipped slightly, and dropped to the ground in a very ungainly fashion. Thankfully, no-one saw it.

Yasha's hair was tied back, and she was wearing a tank top and very short shorts that did nothing to hide what Beau could see were very impressive muscles.

Beau went to lean against the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the park, pretending like she was taking a breather. It wasn't too far from the truth.

A half-second later, Yasha saw her.

Beau gave an uncertain sort of wave. It was one thing to hang out with Yasha in a group, and to have band practice with her, but Beau was pretty sure that they'd never actually been alone together before. Maybe Yasha would ignore her, or worse, see her, and acknowledge her, and then go on her way anyway. At least if Yasha was ignoring her, then she cared about what Beau might think.

Neither of those things happened.

Yasha a gave a soft, almost surprised, 'Oh, hello!' She didn't look disappointed to see Beau. On the contrary, she smiled, and came over to lean against the fence. 'I see you ah...are also out for a morning run on this fine...morning.' Yasha's voice was as stilted and deadpan as always. Beau wondered, for the first time, if Common was even Yasha's first language. Surely being from Xhorhas meant that she would more likely have spoken Undercommon, or Xhorhasian, depending on which bit she was from.

'Yeah, just out walking the dog,' Beau said, laughing. Yasha looked immediately concerned, turning her head to check around her for a non-existent dog. It took her a moment to realize.

'Oh,' she said, her voice suddenly a little sad. 'That was a joke.'

'You like dogs, huh?'

'No, I ah...well, I sometimes have trouble telling when people are telling the truth or not,' Yasha admitted. 'I had thought I was getting better at it, but it is difficult here. Everyone seems to be lying all of the time.'

Beau could empathize. Sort of. She tended to have the opposite problem. 'Yeah,' she said, a little gloomily. 'People tend to think I'm lying even when I'm telling the truth.' She gave Yasha a slight bump with her elbow. 'You know what, we're great, I think the problem is everyone else.'

Yasha's smile widened. 'Yes, I think you are right.'

In the space of thirty seconds or so, Beau had exchanged more words with Yasha than she had in the last two weeks put together. For someone so tall, and well... _built_ , Yasha's voice was much softer, much more comforting than Beau would have expected. Tori had been like Beau, talking a mile a minute, harsh edges, obnoxious if you didn't know her, and sometimes obnoxious even if you did know her.

'So uh...how long have you and Molly been in Nicodranas?' Beau asked. She kind of wanted to ask what it was like to be a Xhorhasian refugee, but that didn't seem like a great conversation-opener.

'Oh, uh...Molly has been here two years, but I have only been here about eight months,' Yasha told her. 'There were some problems with my...I think the word is transcript? The place where I learned in Xhorhas was not very good at keeping records, even before—' Yasha stopped talking abruptly, her eyes wide. She had clearly said more than she had meant to.

'Must be a lot to get used to,' Beau said. 'Nicodranas is so different to anywhere I've ever been. Way nicer than where I grew up, at least.'

'Where did you grow up?' Yasha seemed genuinely curious, rather than asking for the sake of politeness like some people Beau had met.

'Kamordah.' Beau couldn't help but grimace. 'It's in the Empire. Shitty little town full of rich people.' Yasha looked over at the very large, very expensive houses that bordered the park. 'Well, rich in a snobby asshole sort of way. The people here...well, some of them are snobby assholes too, I guess.'

Yasha chuckled. 'Yes, some of them have not been very nice.' Beau felt a sudden rush of anger. She wondered if her father had been one of those “not very nice” people. He was pretty good at making people feel like they didn't belong. The prototypical “new money pretending to be old money” asshole. 'But, compared to Xhorhas, this is much, much nicer.'

'Yeah?'

Yasha stared out over the park, with its perfectly groomed hedges, and its flower beds. A serene look crossed her face. 'Like all this green; you wouldn't see this in Xhorhas.'

'Wouldn't see it in Kamordah, either,' Beau commented. She'd never really thought about all the things she'd seen for the first time since coming to Nicodranas. Trees and grass and flowers, for one thing. Not that they didn't have any in Kamordah, but they were few and far between. The mineral rich soil was good for grapevines, and not a whole lot else. In Nicodranas, the city of many colors, there was far more than just drab browns and grays.

The ocean was another thing Beau had never experienced before she came here. She remembered being twelve years old, standing on the white hot sand, and staring out at that endless expanse of green-blue. It made her feel so small, and yet so at peace.

It would have been, on the whole, a much nicer place to live if she didn't have to live with her parents, but those were the breaks. Beau could have been in a much worse situation. At least she was sitting here with a pretty girl that seemed half interested in maybe even giving her the time of day. That being said. 'Sorry for being weird that time with Molly,' Beau told her. She still wasn't sure if Yasha had been weirded out by her comment, but she still felt the need to say it. Yasha looked confused. 'The bit where I said my type was people that were six-feet tall with great tits.' The words sounded just as creepy even now. 'I was just trying to give Molly shit, you know?'

To Beau's surprise, Yasha grinned. 'I love Molly with all my heart. He is my brother and he is my best friend.' She paused. 'You should give him as much shit as possible.' There was a very long pause. 'The bit you said about not really being into men...was that true?'

'I...yeah,' Beau said. She couldn't let herself ask why Yasha wanted to know, and Yasha, apparently, didn't have anything else to add.

'Cool,' was all she said. Her face was a little flushed, but then, she had been running.

'Anyway.' Beau checked her watch. It was almost seven. If she wasn't home before everyone got up for breakfast...well, it was the same story every time. 'I gotta get going.'

'I usually run every morning,' Yasha blurted out. Beau stared at her. 'I mean, if you want to meet, and maybe run together sometimes. Or maybe just lean against the fence and talk.'

Beau felt a surge of happiness in her chest. It was a feeling that had been coming more and more often these past few weeks. 'Sounds good,' she said. 'How about I meet you here at six-fifteen?'

Yasha pumped her fist in a way that Beau imagined a pirate would, and said, 'I will see you then!'

If Beau had a spring in her step as she jogged home, then nobody would ever have to know.

She came to the park the next morning, and the morning after that. It became something of a routine. Wake up. Run with Yasha. Have breakfast. Go to school. Go to Judo/Basketball/Band. Come home. Do homework. Rinse. Repeat.

The structure of it was kind of helpful, and calmed Beau's mind down a bit. She didn't like all the things that happened, but it was at least predictable, for the most part. Everything except the human element that was. There wasn't much that Beau could do about that part, except make sure she didn't set him off. Easier said than done.

It wasn't until Conthsen night that he decided to spring on her the latest bullshit. 'We're going to Kamordah tomorrow night,' he told her. Not asked. Told. Not even the slightest hint of a question in it. Never mind that Beau had a basketball game, and band practice, and a zillion words of essay-work to do.

Beau opened her mouth to argue, when she saw her mother's face. The very slightest of head-shakes. Like “no, please don't make him angry right now.” For some reason, that made Beau even _more_ furious, like she couldn't even have a simple discussion where she stood up for herself without it “making him angry.”

_Awww_ , Jester said, when Beau told her over Facebook later that night. _We were hoping to get some bass players in this weekend_. Beau knew that Jester had put the posters up, but hadn't realized that she'd gotten any responses.

_I trust the group judgment_ , Beau told her. She still didn't feel like she had as much of a right to an opinion as the rest of the group. _After all, they did pick the best drummer ;)_.

_LOL. You're so funny, Beau._

_(Yasha thinks you're really funny too)._ Beau stared at the screen. The fact that Jester and Yasha had been talking about her...well, Beau didn't know what to think about that. Of course Yasha would have told Jester she'd been running with Beau in the mornings. That didn't have to mean anything else. It could have, but it didn't have to.

_She doesn't have a Facebook account,_ Jester continued, and Beau felt a wave of relief wash over her. She didn't even realize that she was worried. It made sense, of course. Beau got the impression that some things had happened in Xhorhas that Yasha did not want to follow her here.

Beau didn't need to be following the news intently to know that the war with Xhorhas had been brutal. It had been six years since the war had officially ended, but the ripple effects of it were ongoing. There had been a time where, no matter where in the Empire you lived, you felt the effects of it. Beau remembered being in Kamordah, and her father complaining about the increased cost of barrels. The end of the war had been another one of the reasons he had decided to uplift the family and move to Nicodranas. Something about a better integration into the market. Now, with the benefit of education and hindsight, Beau knew that it was because Nicodranas tax law was far less stringent than that of the Empire.

Her main knowledge of the war had come from Social Studies classes. They'd talked about the atrocities committed (by both sides), and the vast number of people that had been displaced, whether by the dropping of bombs, or the changing of borders. There had been stories of people that had left Xhorhas with nothing but the clothes on their back (and sometimes not even that), only to be taken advantage of by the first person whose path they crossed. Even after six years, there were thousands missing, presumed dead.

The fact that Yasha had made it to Nicodranas at all was a near miracle.

It made Beau's problems seem almost petty in comparison.


	6. VI

VI

Beau ducked out of her last class early, claiming a headache. It wasn't entirely untrue. Her whole life felt like a headache at some points. But if she was getting dragged to Kamordah tonight (nine o'clock flight, fucking  _thanks Dad_ ), then she wanted to do a couple of things beforehand.

She didn't have a bank card anymore, but there were gold pieces sort of scattered around her room in places that her dad wouldn't think to look, even if he did search it. That was one thing they hadn't done yet, thankfully.

Beau had changed out of her school uniform, into a tank-top and shorts. As long as she wore her uniform while walking out of the school gates, she could do whatever the fuck she wanted, afterwards. Plus, walking into a liquor store in a high school uniform was never a great idea.

This particular store was one that Beau had only been to a couple of times. She was taking a roundabout route to make the trip home as long as possible. If she got home after six, maybe they would just leave without her.

She was surprised, then, to see a very familiar half-orc standing behind the register, looking extremely bored. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Beau walk in, and he gave her a smile that looked genuine. Was probably just glad of someone to talk to.

'Hey,' he greeted her. 'What are you doing here?' Though he had talked with something of a drawl all the times that Beau had hung out with him previously, his voice seemed a little more clipped, a little more refined.

'I mean...' Beau looked around at the shelves filled with booze. She couldn't afford much of anything, but she might be able to scrape enough together for literally the cheapest beer that they had.

Fjord stared at her I.D suspiciously, when Beau brought her purchases to the register. 'Is this fake?' he asked, and Beau snorted. It wasn't as though she'd tell him if it was.

'Nah, man, I'm eighteen. I work for a wine dealer, remember?' She wasn't sure if she'd actually told him that.

Fjord's eyes narrowed slightly. She did work for her dad, that was true. And you did have to be eighteen to do that sort of stuff, unless the boss happened to be your overbearing, overprotective father. Beau  _was_ eighteen, but she'd been working for her dad since she was ten.

'You're not gonna give any of this to Veth, are you?' Fjord apparently decided that she was telling the truth, and rang her purchases through. It came up at 5 gold, and Beau slid a handful of silver and copper over, with a single errant gold piece. It had taken her the better part of twenty minutes to scrape together. Fjord, to his credit, didn't complain about the change.

'I'm pretty sure Veth has her own booze dealer.' Beau hadn't really thought about it, and she didn't really care. But it wasn't exactly the hardest thing in the world to get alcohol while underage.

Fjord gave a relenting sort of look. 'You know, she used to drink a lot more,' he said. 'She's been doing pretty well since she and Caleb started helping us out with things.' Beau wasn't sure that this was the conversation that she wanted to have at the checkout of a liquor store. Or at all. These might have been her new friends, but that didn't mean she needed to know everything about them, least of all their drinking habits. Plausibly deniability and all. She would take her six pack of beer, and hide it in her underwear drawer like any other self-respecting teenager, drinking it alone, one can at a time. Or maybe that was the old Beau talking.

At least come autumn, when she graduated, she would be able to move out and move on to something...well, something else. Exactly what that was, Beau hadn't decided yet. She had filled out a zillion or so college applications, but the admissions letters wouldn't come out for a while. Her grades were pretty good, and her extra-curriculars were surprisingly good, given that she hated people, so Beau was hopeful that she would get some decent offers.

Maybe it was time for New Beau to start being a little more personable.

'Hey, what time you get off?'

Fjord checked his watch. 'In about twenty minutes.' Beau lifted the bag with her freshly purchased beer.

'You thirsty?'

They sat in the alleyway outside the liquor store, and drank beer. Beau had a little bit of weed in her bag, but she was pretty sure Fjord wasn't the type. Sure enough, when she offered it to him, he declined.

'Not really my thing. But you go ahead if you want.' Beau wasn't really a fan of smoking alone, so she decided to save it for later. It wasn't as though she could take it to Kamordah with her, though, so it would probably go back into the underwear drawer.

'So Jester was saying you can't make practice tomorrow.' Fjord was clearly broaching the topic gently, like he didn't want to rock the boat, but was still giving Beau the opportunity to talk it out if she wanted to.

Beau shrugged. 'Gotta go back home with my family.' Home didn't feel like the right word. Not like Nicodranas was really home either. Not in the ways that it counted.

'Did something happen?' To his credit, he sounded concerned, but that wasn't really his fault. He didn't know anything about her shitty family.

'No, no. It's just we've got the vineyard back in Kamordah, and a couple of times a year he goes back to check how it's running and stuff. Makes sure no-one's slacking on the job.'

'And you have to go with him?'

'It's a family business,' Beau said. She knew it wasn't really an answer, but it was one of those things that you couldn't really explain to someone that hadn't experienced it. When the thing that kept the lights on was the business, then you did what you had to do to keep it running. Never mind you disdained almost everything the family stood for.

'Seems like he'd at least be more concerned about taking you away from school for a week.' Fjord did not seem particularly concerned, nor did he realize that he had accidentally hit the nail on the head. He took a swig of the shitty beer that Beau had bought, and tried not to let her see his grimace.

'I mean, he's a complicated guy,' Beau said, shrugging. It was the truth. She didn't like everything that her father had done to her, but she couldn't deny that some of those things she probably deserved. It wasn't like he had confiscated her drum kit for some perceived slight, it had been a pretty serious crime. 'He had to work really hard to get where he is, so he wants to make sure that I do the same. Sometimes he gets a little gung ho about it.'

'No phone, no going out with friends, no having fun. That sounds a bit more than just gung ho,' Fjord said, lightly. Okay, so maybe he'd been paying more attention than she had realized.

'I dunno what to tell you man. Don't your parents have expectations of you?' There was a very awkward silence, and it took Beau far too long than she was proud of to realize that she'd made a big fucking mistake.

'My parents abandoned me.' Fjord's voice was steady, but Beau could tell that she had accidentally struck a nerve. 'I grew up in foster care.'

'Shit,' Beau breathed. 'I'm so sorry, man, that was a stupid thing for me to say.'

Fjord shook his head. 'No, no,' he said. 'You didn't know. It's fine. I'm out on my own now, but I've no family to speak of. Except for...you know.' Beau did know. She was maybe starting to feel a little bit that way herself. Was it because she was bonding that quickly with her friends, or was it because she was so godsdamned attentions-starved that she would take anything she could get?

Probably both.

Beau checked her watch. It was four fifteen. If she went home now, then she would just about have time to pack before they had to leave for the airport. Her passport was another one of those things that was sitting in a locked desk drawer somewhere.

'Have fun tomorrow,' Beau told Fjord. 'Make sure you don't pick someone shit, yeah?' She saluted him with her empty can, which she then chucked into the open dumpster behind them. Would have been a three-pointer, easily.

Four hours later, Beau was sitting in the window seat of an aeroplane, TJ beside her. Beau had made this trip many times before, but it was TJ's first time. In fact, TJ had never even flown before. Beau couldn't fathom why they were even bringing him. It wasn't as though Kamordah was a hopping tourist destination. TJ would have been much happier (and everyone on the plane would have been much happier) if he and their mother had stayed at home. The only saving grace was that her father thought the idea of flying economy was beneath them, so at least the seats were comfortable.

Of course,  _Beau_ would have been much happier if she'd stayed at home, but that wasn't exactly an option. Her father had vetoed the bringing of her laptop, which meant that she couldn't even message her friends.  _That_ had almost turned into a full-blown argument. Beau had two essays due next week, and had barely made a start on either of them. “You can write them by hand like I did in my day,” he told her. Beau hadn't even bothered trying to explain about trying to find academic resources in a town library that only had books on grape cultivation.

She at least might be able to use the computers there for her schoolwork, but she was almost certain that she wouldn't be able to access anything interesting on them.

It was stupid. She'd gone months without having anyone to really talk to, and now faced with the prospect of going out of contact for even a week was utterly painful.

With no phone, and consequently none of her own media to occupy her mind with, Beau was forced to use the airline-supplied headphones, and deal with whatever boring stuff was on the seat-screen in front of her.

There were TV shows and movies from well over a year ago, none of which Beau was particularly interested in. There was some not terrible music, and some slightly terrible games. Beau listened to the music for a bit, trying to pick out the drum sounds. After about ten minutes, TJ wheedled her into playing some complicated game involving balls on his tablet. It at least stopped him from crying, especially after Beau let him win every single time.

They landed well after midnight, even with the time difference taken into account. It was probably closer to something like 2am, and TJ was fast asleep for the touchdown. A pity. He probably would have enjoyed looking out the window.

The Lionett Estate proper had been sitting around in disuse while they lived in Nicodranas. There was a skeleton housekeeping staff, but not a whole lot else.

It felt like a waste. There were hundreds – maybe thousands – of families living in the Mudfields that would have jumped at the chance to live in a nicer house. The thing was so fucking big it could have fit twenty of them, and yet her father would have rather let it stand empty than let the “riff-raff” into it. Probably didn't help that a lot of the Mudfields residents were halfings. Not as bad as tieflings or half-orcs, but still a step below human in her father's book.

Kamordah was, in a word, a hole.

In the summers, it got hot, and in the winters it was freezing and sludgy. Literally the only even remotely pretty part of it was the rainbow colored cliffs that bordered the edge of the town, and even they had been marred by the introduction of rows upon rows of grapes. Beau would live a happy life if she went without ever hearing about grapes again.

The next few days, sadly, was pretty much nothing  _but_ grapes. For one thing, Beau spent two agonizing days out in the vineyard proper, helping the workers tend to the vines. There was that “character building” thing all over again. By the end of it, Beau was exhausted, sweaty, and sunburned beyond belief.

At the very least, it helped to burn off some of that pent up anger that would have otherwise been directed towards her father. She kept hearing her mother's voice in the back of her head, saying “don't make him mad.” Some days, that voice made her angrier than her father's, because why wasn't she telling _him_ not to get angry?

The rest of the time there, Beau spent either deep in the cellars, counting bottles and barrels, or in her father's stuffy, claustrophobic office, checking ledgers and inventory. All the shit jobs that he didn't want to do himself, he made Beau do. By the following Folsen, she was well and truly ready to go home.

It was another late night getting in to Nicodranas, but Beau was damned if she was going to miss another band practice. Two in a row, and they'd probably start to forget about her. Especially given that they would hopefully, by now, have a bass player.

The next morning, Beau didn't even wait for her dad to get up. She scarfed down breakfast, and left the house before anyone could tell her not to.

It was a nice day, so she went for a walk on the beach before heading back up to Jester's place. It was only ten-thirty, but Molly, and Yasha, and Jester would be there, so it wasn't as though she would be hanging around awkwardly.

Okay, so maybe it might be a little awkward, but Beau was willing to deal with that. She knocked on the garage door (slightly open), and waited.

A blue-horned head peaked through the gap. 'Beau!' she said excitedly. 'You're here! Come in!' Beau limboed under the open door, wincing at the pull on her sunburn. She was excited to be able to sit down and hit things with sticks.

All that changed in an instant, though. Whatever tension that had been building in her chest, seemed to come to a head the moment she saw the people that were standing in the room.

Yasha was at the door, and gave Beau a friendly wave and a smile, but for the first time in so long, Beau was looking at someone other than Yasha.

The figure standing next to Molly as they compared guitars looked up, her smile that same devilish sort of grin that Beau had grown so accustomed to, before having it ripped away from her entirely.

Beau's heart dropped into her stomach. 'Tori,' she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to call this the Kamordah bait and switch.


	7. VII

VII

It didn't strike Beau until later that Tori had to have known.

Beau had been gone a week, and frankly, she didn't think it would be conceited of her to expect that Jester would have told any new bass player “our drummer is Beau, and she's with her shitty family in Kamordah for a week.” Or something like that.

In the moment, though...well, Beau wasn't really thinking much at all. She was standing still, mouth agape. She was vaguely aware that there were at least three sets of eyes on her. Molly, for his part, was still playing with his guitar, trying to figure out what was going on with his pickup.

'Beau,' came Jester's voice, a little uncertain. 'This is Tori.'

'Yeah.' Beau's voice cracked. Dairon would have said she was in a “Fight, Flight or Freeze” response, and not for the first time in her life, she had chosen “Freeze.” Usually she preferred Fight, but the shock of what had happened was so much that Beau couldn't even think to curl her hand into a fist.

Couldn't even think to dodge when Tori came towards her swinging a clenched fist.

Things were a little fuzzy after that.

There was a stinging pain in the center of Beau's face, where Tori's fist had impacted with her nose, and it was streaked with blood down to the chin. Everything was blurry, and there were yells and shouts and other loud noises that seemed like they were coming through Beau's ears in a hazy filter. She could feel a strong, firm hand on her shoulder. It grounded her. Centered her in a way that nothing else in her life ever had.

When things started to clear, Beau was aware that there were at least two more people in the room than had been previously. One was Jester's mother. The other was a tall, muscle-bound minotaur that wore only a button-down shirt.

Tori was nowhere to be seen. Jester was on the other side of the garage, on the phone.

'Molly, get an ice-pack from the freezer, Yasha, get some water.' The hand on Beau's shoulder seemed to hesitate slightly before pulling away. Instead, a red hand cupped Beauregard's cheek in a maternal fashion that her own mother had not exhibited once in eighteen years. 'Beauregard, can you hear me?'

'Beau,' Beau muttered. 'Only my parents call me Beauregard.' Somehow that seemed important in the moment. Beau wasn't sure why.

'Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?'

'One,' Beau said. She blinked. 'I'm fine, she just took me by surprise is all.' Well...maybe “by surprise” was the wrong way to put it. Beau had known for a long time that Tori was going to cold-clock her the next time they met. She just hadn't expected it to be  _here_ . Hadn't expected that her one safe space would be violated.

It hurt far more than the nose did.

'Perhaps we should take you to the hospital, just to get checked out.'

'No!' Beau jumped to her feet, and pulled backwards, horrified. The minotaur, standing by the doorway with his arms crossed, looked startled. Jester was putting her phone away, and rushing over.  _Shit, Beau, this isn't how you stop drawing attention to yourself_ . 'No,' she said again, more softly this time. 'I...I don't need to go to the hospital.' If she went to the hospital, they would call her father, and if they called her father, then he would find out everything. That was the last thing that Beau wanted to happen.

Molly arrived with the ice-pack, and Beau sat back down. She knew that she hadn't convinced anyone that she didn't need a hospital. Either way, Jester's mother went over to talk to the minotaur.

'I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you knew that charming young woman,' Molly said, jovially, as he pressed the ice-pack to Beau's nose. Beau couldn't help but laugh.

'Ah, yeah,' she said. 'You could say that.'

'What'd you do to piss her off? Shit in her cereal?'

'Ex-girlfriend,' Beau muttered. She didn't have the energy to lie about it. 'We got arrested trying to steal some of my dad's wine. I got bailed out, she didn't.' There was a long pause. 'Pretty sure she's upset.'

'My darling, that is the understatement of the year.' Molly's tone hadn't dropped its joyful edge, but now there seemed to be an element of understanding to it. 'I have seen less upset people literally getting shot at.' Beau didn't bother asking where Molly had seen people getting shot at.

'Here.' The sound of Yasha's voice in Beau's ear made her jump. She pushed a large class of cold water into Beau's hand. Beau was suddenly terrified at how much Yasha had heard of the conversation. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much.

She took a very long sip of the water, and it did make her feel a little better. Not nearly well enough to make up for the fact that it was kind of hard to breathe through her nose, and the lower half of her face was still covered in blood.

Beau was pretty sure her nose wasn't broken. She'd been smashed in the face enough times to know what it felt like. It stung, but nothing seemed to crunch when she moved. So that was something.

'Hey Beau.' Jester had somehow made it to Beau's side without Beau even noticing. 'Do you want us to call the police?'

_That_ Beau had to laugh at. She was pretty sure that calling the police would somehow only lead to her own arrest. That had definitely happened before. But no. Tori would definitely be long in the wind by now if (and Beau was extrapolating a little here) the minotaur had chucked her out. Plus, there was no small part of Beau's brain that was telling her she had deserved it.

She had, after all, gotten away pretty much scot-free after their escapades. Her father had either bribed, or convinced the police not to charge Beau with anything, and to let Tori rot. Beau was sure there was a bit of the puzzle she was missing there, but she'd never cared to try and press her father for more information.

'No,' Beau said. 'You don't need to call the police.'

The ice definitely helped. After ten minutes or so of Molly pressing it (surprisingly gently) up to her face, Beau decided that she didn't need it anymore. The pain had ebbed away to a dull sort of ache. It would definitely be swollen (and she'd probably have a pretty impressive bruise), but she'd be okay.

'I'm gonna go and uh...' Beau gestured to her face. Molly, Jester and Yasha were all looking at her in concern. Well that was a first. 'I'm fine,' she assured them, which wasn't entirely a lie.

She was fine. She was always fine. Even when she wasn't fine, she was fine. Because to admit weakness was to open yourself up to someone exploiting that weakness.

In the bathroom, Beau washed her face. Crimson-stained water stained the basin, and she scrubbed for a few moments to make sure that it wouldn't stain. She would hate to mess up Jester's mother's house.

Would hate to fuck things up any more than she already had.

They had found a bass player, after all. A  _good_ bass player. Tori could play circles around Beau on any instrument she picked up. She probably would have even been a better drummer, but the bass was  _her_ instrument. Beau wasn't sure why she hadn't predicted this. Nicodranas wasn't exactly a huge place, after all. In certain circles, you tended to run into the same sorts of people, for better or for worse.

By the time she'd dried her face, Beau had made up her mind.

She couldn't be the person that would bring this kind of drama onto the band. It would be better for them – better for all of them – if she just left.

When she returned to the garage, she didn't dare look them in the eye. Fjord and Caduceus were here now, too. Fjord had brought pizza again, and trying not to smell it was fucking agony. Beau grabbed her bag, and tried not to make a big scene about what she was doing. Maybe they wouldn't notice.

No such luck.

'Beau.' It was Caduceus that spoke up. He didn't miss a trick, that guy. For someone as laid-back and relaxed as he was, he spotted things that most people didn't. 'Where are you going?'

Beau had her drumsticks in hand, and was about to shove them into her bag. Caduceus' words caught the attention of everyone else, and Beau found herself lost for words. She had no godsdamned idea how to explain to them what the fuck was going on inside her head. That stupid fucking cognitive dissonance of wanting – needing – to belong, but the simultaneous desire to flee at the first sign of people even considering abandoning her.

She fucking hated it.

'I...' There was a long pause. 'I have to go.'

'Aw, we don't have to practice, Beau. If you're not feeling it, we can just watch a movie, and have pizza!' Jester said, excitedly. She didn't really get it. None of them got it, Beau thought. Except...Yasha was giving her a curious look.

'She's saying she'll leave all this,' Yasha said. She didn't tear her eyes away from Beau's, and there was a strange sort of sadness to them. Beau felt immediately guilty.

'Oh, Beau!' Jester swooped in, and wrapped her arms around Beau, before Beau could even think to pull away. 'You don't have to go because of Tori.'

'She's way better than me,' Beau said, bitterly. 'You would have been better off just keeping her.'

'Beau, we don't care if she's the best player in the world,' Jester said, immediately. 'She hurt you, and that means we hate her.'

A complicated wave of emotion rushed through Beau. This kind of unconditional, unwavering support was something that she had never experienced before in her life. Was that what people with normal families had? People that would back them up in all their endeavors, no questions asked?

For some reason, it warmed her heart and broke it all at once. Broke it because her family had never been that for her, and warmed it, because somehow, after everything, she had found people that would be.

One day, she was sure, they would get sick of her. One day, they would decided that the work was just too much, that she wasn't worth it. But for now...Well, they ate pizza, and played music, and Beau tried to pretend like she wasn't going to have to go home with a big fucking bruise on her face. It was bad enough that she'd left without saying anything. Bad enough that she'd had to see the one person in the world that had every right to punch her in the face.

Beau should have been feeling ecstatic that her friends were so quick to jump to her defense. Instead, she felt...well, she didn't deserve this. They deserved someone better.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Yasha kept trying to catch Beau's eye. On any other day but today, Beau would have been thrilled, but today...today was not a good day.

By four o'clock, Beau knew she wouldn't be able to put it off any longer. If she got home after five, then her father would more than likely just lock her out. It wouldn't have been the first time, especially if things hadn't been going particularly well for the business. At best, she might be grounded, at worst...well, the one from Tori might not have been the only bruise Beau got today.

'You know, you could stay, if you want,' Jester said. 'We could have a sleepover!' Beau wasn't sure exactly how much Jester had figured out; she was pretty sure that the tiefling was a lot more insightful than she was willing to let on. But, as tempting as it was, that would just delay the inevitable.

'Thanks,' Beau said, with only a slight grimace. 'But they're definitely going to freak out when they see this.' She gestured towards her face.

'Even though you got attacked?' Yasha sounded far more concerned than the situation warranted. Molly was at her side, watching, but for the first time in his life, saying nothing.

Beau shrugged. 'It's still a bit of a sore subject,' she told them. What she meant, was that if she even mentioned Tori to her father, he would _definitely_ be angry. Never mind that Beau hadn't exactly had a choice in seeing her. 'Anyway, I'll hopefully see you guys next week. If not, it's probably because I'm grounded.' She'd meant it in a blasé sort of way, but did not miss the look that Yasha and Jester shared, as Beau ducked back out under the garage door.

If they knew, Beau was certain that they would try and do something about it, and that, she knew, would just make things worse.

It was only nine more months.

She could survive that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your kind comments from the end of last chapter. I unfortunately haven't replied to any because it's been a real shitty month, but trying to get chapters of this story out is keeping me grounded (and maybe a bit of outlet for emotion). Glad people are enjoying the story, and comments are very much always appreciated.


	8. VIII

VIII

The ridiculous thing was, Beau was pretty sure her dad hadn't even noticed she was gone.

He was out when she returned, and had apparently been gone since the morning. Hadn't bothered to try and say goodbye to her (not that Beau cared), or try and find out where she was. Once upon a time, Beau might have felt hurt by that fact, but instead, she only felt relief.

Relief that she didn't have to go around making excuses for her behavior, excuses that he either didn't believe, or didn't care to believe.

Beau's mother was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Beau was surprised to see it; her mother didn't often cook, now that they had people to cook for them. But, in the same way that Beau was made to babysit even though they had a nanny, every now and then, Clara Lionett would get the hankering to make dinner.

She wasn't a bad cook by any means, but her repertoire was limited to macaroni and cheese, and very overcooked steaks. Tonight, at least, it was macaroni and cheese, which both Beau, and a freshly-showered TJ were appreciative of.

He was in the living room, watching cartoons when Beau got home. Beau wasn't sure the last time she'd watched anything on that TV. Even if she could stomach the idea of sitting in the same room as her parents, the idea had little appeal.

But, at least with just her mother home, things were a little less tense. Beau didn't feel like she was breaking the rules if she went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

'I didn't know if you'd be home.' Beau's mother frowned. The fact that it was even a question was a can of worms Beau didn't want to get into.

'Well, I would have called,' Beau said. 'But, you know...' It was very much a statement designed to make her mother feel guilty, and she was pretty sure that it had worked. There was an awkward silence, at least, followed by an abrupt change in subject. At least she wasn't defending him. That was something. She rarely did defend him when he wasn't around, but she didn't do much of anything else, either.

Beau's mother, for all that she rarely intervened when things started to go wrong, was remarkably perceptive. 'What happened to your face?' Beau grimaced. She had known she wouldn't be able to hide it. Though maybe her father, who sometimes refused to even look her in the eye, might not notice.

'Got punched,' Beau said. There was no point in lying to her mother. Her mother wouldn't tell on her, for fear of reprisal, for both of them. The same way she wouldn't dob Beau in for being out of the house all day. It was more trouble than it was worth. It was a pretty fucking low bar for motherhood.

There was a very long pause. 'Don't let him see.'

'Do you really think I would?' Beau said, angrily. She wasn't stupid. If her father found out, then he would find out how it had happened, and more importantly, he would find out what it was she was doing when she visited Jester in the Opal Archways on Yulisens, and it certainly wasn't talking to Jester's mother about the pedigree of Lionett wine. 'What time will he be home?'

“Late,” was the offered answer, which meant that Beau felt perfectly comfortable eating in front of the TV with TJ. He ate all the peas that she didn't, and they watched _Evard's Imaginarium_ until it was his bed time.

'I don't wanna,' TJ mumbled, his head resting in the crook of Beau's elbow. As much as Beau would have loved to let him stay up late, that was probably a bridge too far. She gave him a hug and a kiss goodnight, and watched as their mother took him upstairs.

Beau turned off the TV. She had no particular need to stay down here if TJ wasn't there. Instead, she went upstairs, and got started on some homework. It didn't take long to realize that her heart wasn't really in it. Her nose was throbbing slightly, and she didn't quite have the focus to think about how the fall of the Julous Dominion impacted on the spice trade across Wildemount.

Inevitably, she gave up on it, and retreated to Facebook, where she found a bunch of messages (Jester checking in, Fjord checking in), and a friend request.

From Yasha.

Beau's heart stopped. At least, it felt like it did. Jester had told Beau that Yasha didn't have Facebook. Yasha didn't seem like the type of person to lie about it, or to keep it from Jester, which meant that she had just made one. Literally that day, if the completely blank profile page was anything to go by.

Beau pressed “accept” immediately. She didn't think that there was anything meant by it. Yasha was probably friending everyone in the band. In any case, Beau felt a rush of warmth at the idea that Yasha was even thinking of her. There was a little green circle next to Yasha's name (no profile picture yet), and Beau's hands hovered over the keyboard.

She should say something, shouldn't she? No, man, play it cool. Instead, Beau sent a quick message to both Fjord and Jester, assuring them that she had not died on the ten minute walk home. The fact that they cared enough to ask, though, meant a lot.

A _ding_ sound in Beau's ears made her jump.

_Hello_.

The message was from Yasha. Oh shit, oh shit.

What was she going to say? “Hello!” No, too enthusiastic. “Yo.” No, too blasé.

_Hey_ , was what she settled on. Then, a moment after that. _Didn't think you had Facebook._ Play it cool, don't try and make it like you're super eager to talk to her.

The reply seemed to take several minutes. The words “Yasha Nydoorin is typing” seemed to stop and start. Finally, a message came through. _Jester has been helping me to set one up._

_Oh, cool. It's pretty handy_.

Beau grimaced. “It's pretty handy.” Fuck, could you be any more awkward? In general, Beau thought she was reasonably smooth when talking to girls. She had spent the night with her fair share of them, other than Tori, and even Tori she had had to woo a little bit. But this was...this was dire.

_Yes, it's good to be able to talk to you._

It wasn't as though they had not been talking, the week Beau had spent in Kamordah aside. They spent a good half an hour every morning talking. Did that mean that Yasha wanted to talk to her _more_?

_I mean, we're still on for tomorrow, right?_ Tomorrow was Da'leysen, which meant that they didn't have to go for a walk at the crack of dawn.

:).

_Jester is also showing me how to use emojis_. :S. :/. :(. _They are very helpful_. _Are you sure you will be alright to run tomorrow after what happened?_

Beau couldn't help but smile. There was something about Yasha that made her...she wasn't even sure what, but she knew that she hadn't felt this way before. The mere fact that Yasha had asked her if she still wanted to go meant the world.

_It's fine atm, but if there's an issue, we can just walk_.

Beau didn't stay on long – “late” could mean anything when it came to your father – but before she went to bed, she got one last message from Jester.

_She really likes you, you know_.

Beau left it on read. She had so many questions, and she would go insane trying to get Jester to answer them.

The next day, Beau woke early. Early, at least, for a Da'leysen, but considerably later than she would on a weekday. She skipped breakfast, and instead dressed for a run. Her nose was still swollen. It wasn't unexpected, but in a way, she was kind of relieved. Walking with Yasha instead of running meant that there would be more time for talking.

Beau wasn't sure at what point in her life she had come to prefer talking to someone over working out. Or maybe it was just Yasha.

Still, the mood was slightly subdued when Beau and Yasha fell into step beside each other. They were both, Beau knew, still thinking about the events of the previous day, and consequently only took a single lap of the park before coming to stop at a bench.

'Is everything okay?' Yasha asked, and it really kind of sounded like it was a question she'd been working herself up to ask. Beau had the sudden realization that she wasn't talking about Tori at all.

It was a difficult question to answer. The obvious answer, of course, was “no,” but even that wasn't really the full story. It was “no, but I can handle it,” or “no, but it'll be over soon.” Beau had gotten very good at just dealing with things over the years. At putting up with the fact that her life was far from perfect, and would probably be that way for a while. But being with the band (being with Yasha?) was the first time in so long that Beau had even the slightest light at the end of the tunnel, that things might not be shit forever.

'I mean, it is what it is,' Beau said, finally, which clearly wasn't an answer that Yasha could accept.

There was a very long pause. 'You deserve better than that.'

Beau shrugged. It wasn't that she thought that Yasha was wrong, it was that she'd spent the last eighteen years having people tell her that she _didn't_ deserve better, that she was just a spoiled brat that needed to learn some respect, and do what she was told. It had never really occurred to her that maybe _they_ were wrong. 'Either way, I'll be gone soon. Studying somewhere other than Nicodranas, and definitely, _definitely_ not studying business.'

Yasha arched an eyebrow, and Beau waved a hand in response. That was a whole 'nother thing that she really didn't want to go into right now.

'What will you study instead?' Yasha asked.

Beau honestly didn't know. All the applications she'd put in had been for schools that had a variety of different fields that she could major in, and she knew she wouldn't have to pick a major straight away. She liked history, but then, she also liked criminal justice, and they were about as far apart as you could possibly get. At the moment, the important thing was just “get out.”

'Not sure yet,' Beau said. 'What about you? You gonna go to college?'

Yasha's face turned a little red, and Beau was worried that she might have accidentally struck a nerve. It made sense that someone who was a Xhorhasian refugee wouldn't necessarily been thinking about college.

'I...yes,' she said, her voice soft. 'Though...I don't know if I will have the grades to get in. Because of my, ah circumstances, all of the places that I am applying want a lot of paperwork.'

'Oh?' Beau asked. 'What did you want to do?' Beau tried to think about the sort of college course that someone like Yasha might do. Maybe something in physical therapy, or sports science? She clearly worked out a lot (Beau could not help but sneak a quick glance at her biceps). The answer, when it came, was one that Beau hadn't expected at all.

'Well I was hoping to do horticulture,' Yasha admitted. She paused, as though waiting for a laugh, or a stunned silence. Beau grinned.

'Wow, that sounds really cool. I didn't know you were into gardening.' Weirdly, Yasha's blush deepened.

'It was very difficult in Xhorhas. There was plant life, of course, but it was very difficult to cultivate things that weren't native to the area. Nicodranas is much better in that regard.'

Weirdly, Beau knew exactly what she was talking about. 'Yeah, Kamordah is a little like that,' she told Yasha. Very temperamental soil.'

Yasha gave a small smile. It was a nice moment, Beau thought. Something that was shared between them, even if it was something as banal as having a hometown that lacked biodiversity.

'It's kind of a shitty place,' Beau continued. She much preferred Nicodranas. Nicodranas, at least, had the beach, and a far more varied population than just snooty, upper-class people fucking each other over to get the best vintage in. Plus, you know...Yasha was here, in addition to all of Beau's other friends. She didn't have any friends in Kamordah.

'Jester's mother is letting me work on the garden at the house. I can show you next time we have practice.'

Beau had no idea how the subject of the garden hadn't come up yet. She'd been to the house half a dozen times, and had barely seen much more than the garage. Beau had never had friends whose houses she was allowed to go to. She wasn't sure on the protocol for asking to look at the garden. Still, she was glad that Yasha was so willing to share part of herself with Beau.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Beau looked up, and saw the last person (okay, maybe the second last person) in the world that she wanted to see right now.

'I figured you'd be fucking one of them,' Tori sneered. 'Just thought it would've been the tiefling.'

Beau felt a strong hand at the small of her back. She looked to the side, and saw Yasha's face, complete with an expression of unbridled fury.

'Yash,' Beau murmured. It wasn't that she wouldn't have loved to see Yasha beat the shit out of Tori. But if the police came along and found that a Xhorhasian refugee committing aggravated assault, that definitely didn't bode well for Yasha. Beau might've gotten away with it, on account of the fact that her father would kill her before the police ever got a chance to arrest her. 'Tori, what are you doing here?' she asked, wearily. This really wasn't what Beau wanted to deal with right now.

Beau got the distinct impression that Tori might have been hanging around, waiting for Beau to show up somewhere. Either she'd been hanging around near Jester's place, or she'd been hanging around near Beau's place. Neither of those were particularly good options.

'We didn't get a chance to talk yesterday before that oaf chucked me out.'

Beau couldn't help but laugh. 'What the fuck did you think would happen? You'd punch me, and then we'd have a nice deep and meaningful?'

'Does Daddy know what you've been doing in your spare time?' The question struck exactly the nerve that Tori seemed to know it would. Beau felt her fist clench, and she had to restrain herself from doing the exact thing that she'd tried to stop Yasha from doing. It wouldn't have been a fair fight. Beau could wipe the floor with Tori, even on a bad day.

She was goading, and Beau knew it.

She wasn't going to bite. She wasn't going to give Tori an excuse to retaliate, to do something much, much worse than throwing a punch.

There were a lot of things that Tori could do. Beau was sure, after all, that she probably hadn't deleted any of the photos that Beau had sent her. Not to mention all the things she knew that Beau's father hadn't found out about.

'It was good to see you, Tori,' Beau said. She stood to walk away, and Yasha, sensing that Beau did not want to engage, followed.

They wandered back to Jester's place, and Beau hesitated by the door. 'I gotta get back home,' she said. She didn't move. 'I don't think she followed us here, and if she did...' Well, the minotaur would handle it. Shit, Beau still didn't know his name.

'I...um...it was good to just talk with you again,' Yasha said. She wasn't quite meeting Beau's eyes.

'Yeah, sorry about...about Tori. It was...it ended really badly.'

Yasha looked like she wanted to ask, and Beau almost felt like she wanted to tell her. But she didn't. There was another long stretch of silence, and Beau honestly would have kissed Yasha if she knew that it would be well received. But she didn't know. She didn't know, and Yasha didn't make any move to suggest that it was something she wanted either.

'Well, I'll see you tomorrow, maybe,' Beau said, and she could have sworn that Yasha looked almost disappointed.

'Yes, I...ah...see you.'

Beau didn't wait around for things to get more awkward. She wandered back home, looking over her shoulder every ten seconds to make sure that Tori wasn't following her. Not that it mattered. Tori knew where she lived, knew where Jester lived. If she really wanted to make a move as some kind of revenge, she would, and there wasn't a whole lot that Beau could do to stop it.

She waited three days for the other shoe to drop.

It was Whelsen evening when Beau's father called her downstairs, while she was in the middle of doing her Econ homework.

He was waiting for her in the living room, looking as stern and serious as ever. Wordlessly, he nodded to the couch, and Beau sat down. Definitely not a good sign.

'Do you want to tell me what you've _really_ been doing when you go to the Archways?' he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned this on tumblr, but I should probably say this here, too. Even though I generally just lurk, I do see some of the nice things that are said on discord, and they are very much appreciated, so thank-you :)


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is...not a comfortable one. Please remember to check the tags before reading.

IX

'Do you want to tell me what you've _really_ been doing when you go to the Archways?

He knew. Beau wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew.

In all honesty, she hadn't really been trying that hard to hide it, so that was on her. But there was still that thought in the back of her head, the thought that there was only person in the world outside of her friends that knew both what Beau did of a weekend, and how her father would react to finding out.

The only person in the world who had a vested interest in exacting revenge.

It wouldn't have been too difficult after all, for Tori to get some kind of anonymous message to her father. It was pretty much what she had threatened to do.

'Hanging out with friends,' Beau said. She didn't offer any more information than that.

'Which friends?' he demanded. 'Do I know them?' Beau knew the unspoken comment there. That she didn't _have_ any friends. That he had tried very hard to put her in a position where she couldn't _make_ any friends.

'The Ruby of the Sea's daughter,' Beau said. She didn't want to give him names. Didn't want to give him anything he could use for his own benefit. 'Her foster siblings. A couple of other people.' A couple of other people meaning “a half-orc, a firbolg, a human and a halfling.” Not that he needed to know that bit.

'And what have you been doing?' her father said again. There was a glint in his eye that suggested no matter what answer Beau gave, she would be in the shit for hiding things from him.

Beau shrugged. 'Just shooting the shit. Watching movies, playing music. Nothing that would cause your rich friends to get their panties in a twist.' She had said the wrong thing. It wasn't incorrect, really, but it was the wrong thing to say. Her father's eyes flared, his cheeks turned red.

'The only reason you aren't rotting in a prison cell is because of the connections I've made,' he seethed. 'Were it not for my leniency, you'd have very little future to look forward to.'

Beau scoffed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother standing in the doorway, looking worried. Typical. Still wasn't going to intervene on Beau's behalf.

The only saving grace was that TJ was in bed. That he didn't have to listen to this, to watch their father verbally and emotionally berate Beau.

Not that it would have been the first time.

Beau tuned out the yelling. It was the only way she could get through it, by being somewhere else. She caught a few weasel words, like “respect” and “gratitude” that he had used so often without ever really indicating he knew what they really meant. Like that respect worked both ways, and that you actually had to give someone something to be grateful for.

At last, though, it was over.

He'd blown the rage he'd been building for weeks, and now, maybe, things would be fine for a little while.

Except...

'One more thing.'

Beau had already gotten up from the couch, and was halfway to the door. Her mother still hadn't said anything, but there were tears pressed in the corner of Clara Lionett's eyes. Beau couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for her mother right now.

'What?'

Beau said.

'You will not leave the house except for school at eight am. You will be home before five o'clock on weeknights. You will _not_ be going out on weekends.' He said the words with such triumphant finality that Beau was sure he wasn't expecting her to retaliate.

'No,' she said.

There was a sharp intake of breath from behind Beau that she ignored. Her father, too, seemed stunned. Too stunned to say anything. Emboldened, Beau continued.

Beau snapped. 'You took my phone, you took my car, you took literally _anything_ I have that brought me any fucking happiness, and you are not going to take away this. I'm an adult, and you can't keep treating me like I'm four fucking years old.'

'As long as you're in this house—'

'Oh, _fuck_ off. You just like lording it over me, because you're too fucking useless at anything else.' There was a tense silence, and Beau knew at once that she had gone too far.

'Thoreau,' Beau's mother said, and her father threw up a hand. The silence was the worst bit. The silent anger was worse than any screaming, anything he could possible say.

Before Beau could even process what was happening, she felt a stinging pain across her face. He was fast, she gave him that. She staggered backwards from the hit, face throbbing. 'Get out,' he said, evenly.

'Thoreau,' Beau's mother said again, this time her voice was strained and urgent. Beau could have laughed. It had only taken her eighteen fucking years to try and intervene. It didn't matter. Her words might as well have not been said.

'Pack your bags and get out.'

'Give me my phone,' Beau said. 'Give me all the fucking shit that's mine that you took, and you'll never have to see me again.'

Beau didn't wait for an answer. She stormed past her father (deadly silent) and her mother ('Beauregard—') and ran upstairs. Her heart was pounding, and everything was shaking, and if she stopped to think about what had just happened, then she knew she was going to burst into tears.

She wasn't going to let that happen. Couldn't give _him_ the satisfaction of knowing that he had gotten to her.

If she were in her right mind, Beau might have realized exactly how ridiculous that sounded, but she wasn't exactly thinking entirely straight right now.

All told, there wasn't exactly a lot to pack. Most of her stuff was already in her backpack. Her “family” had taken so much that there was hardly anything left. But, Beau shoved in all the clothes that she could fit, and a few other odds and ends. Everything else was insignificant enough to leave behind.

'Beauregard.' Beau looked up, and saw that her mother was standing at the door, eyes wet from crying. 'He doesn't mean it. You don't have to leave.'

Beau was incredulous. 'You've spent the last however many years ignoring all the shit he put me through. Why the hell are you starting now?'

Her mother didn't have an answer for that, save for a renewed wave of tears. In any other circumstance, Beau might have felt sorry for her, but not now. Not today. Her mother's weakness was not something that Beau could afford to be a priority right now.

There was only one thing that mattered. 'Let me say goodbye to TJ.'

Her mother didn't answer straight away. Then, finally, 'Of course.'

It took Beau until she got to TJ's door to realize that her father hadn't even bothered to come upstairs. The fucking coward.

TJ was already awake. The shouting must have woken him; Beau felt a wave of guilt rush through her. That was the worst part about this whole situation, making TJ feel bad. Or worse, leaving TJ alone.

But they wouldn't hurt TJ. They loved him in a way that they had never loved Beauregard.

'Beau?' TJ's lips were trembling. Even at such a young age, he could clearly tell that something was wrong.

'Hey buddy.' Beau cracked a grin, and it was only at that point that she realized that her face was covered in blood, and her nose was fucking killing her. Shit, no wonder he could tell. 'I'm just here to give you a hug goodnight.'

'What happened?'

_Dad hit me._ 'Oh, nothing buddy, I just bumped into the wall.' Beau knelt down to the side of TJ's bed, and swept him up into a hug. The biggest, longest hug she'd ever given him. It could even be the last hug she'd ever give him. She didn't want to let go.

Eventually, though, she had to. She pulled away, and it was the hardest thing she'd ever done.

Her mother was waiting at the door. She handed Beau the phone that had been sitting in her father's locked desk drawer. Then, she handed Beau a stack of gold notes. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

Beau locked eyes with her mother. She couldn't find any lie in them. It was too little too late, but...well, it was better than nothing. 'I know,' Beau said, evenly. She grabbed her backpack, and her skateboard, and walked out the front door, not even bothering to say goodbye to her father.

'Beauregard,' he called out, after her. Beau stopped. She wasn't going to change her mind, but she at least wanted to hear what he had to say. 'Keys.'

Beau felt a tightening in her chest. The tears that she had been holding back since the argument threatened to spill out. She thrust a hand into her backpack, and dug around until she found her set of house keys. She chucked them over her shoulder, not particularly caring where they landed, or what they hit.

She dropped her board to the ground, and started to skate. Where, she had no idea, all she knew was that she had to get as far away from here as possible, as far away from the house that had been the bane of her existence for so long.

By the time Beau had gone the length of the block, tears were streaming down her face. Her nose and her chin stung from where her father had backhanded her. It wasn't the first time he'd hit her, and he hadn't pulled his punches by any means.

The enormity of what had happened hadn't quite hit Beau yet. Her heart hadn't stopped racing, and she hadn't quite figured out what the fuck she was going to do next. So distracted by everything, she didn't notice the uneven bit of pavement until her board hit it, and she went ass over ankles into the concrete.

_Fuck_.

A wave of pain shot through her body, and she just lay there for a few moments. Eventually, though, she'd have to get up. She tried to push herself up with her wrist, but the pain was way too much. 'Fuck!' Beau spat. It didn't feel broken, but it hurt like hell. Her board, on the other hand...

Well, that was a problem for another time. Beau's hands were shaking. She was six blocks from home, and she had a backpack with everything she owned in the world. She would never have to go back there again.

The sun was well and truly set. It certainly wasn't even close to the latest that Beau had been out at night, but it felt different. Maybe because every other time, she'd at least had somewhere to go. This time, she had nothing.

The phone that had been locked in her father's desk drawer for months was dead. There was a charger in her bag, but it wasn't like she was going to find an outlet just randomly on a streetlight. Wherever she went, she would be showing up there with a bloodied up face, and all hr worldly possessions.

The obvious answer, of course, would be to go to Jester's house. It was big enough that there were probably spare rooms, and Yasha and Molly would be there. Somehow, though, the thought of showing up to Jester's place with a new black eye and a probably broken nose, having to tell them what happened...It wasn't something that Beau wanted to deal with tonight, and Jester wasn't one to not ask a hundred thousand questions about things.

Plus, it was kind of embarrassing. Her problems seemed so petty and boring compared to the shit that Molly and Yasha had been through. Beau hadn't escaped a war zone or anything. She'd just had a fight with her dad over stupid bullshit.

Weirdly, the next thought that crossed her mind was the liquor store were Fjord worked. It was only a couple of miles away, and if she was lucky, he would be working tonight. If not, then there were a couple of motels in that part of town that she might be able to spend the night at. The wad of cash that her mother had given her would cover at least that much.

Beau walked. Her head hurt, and her wrist hurt, and her heart even hurt a little, and she wasn't sure if she was going to make it without having a full fucking breakdown, but somehow she did, and from the shining lights that illuminated the parking lot, Beau could see a singular half-orc manning the counter inside.


	10. X

X

Fjord looked up as Beau entered the store; at first, there was a smile when he realized who it was, but the smile very quickly transformed to horror. Beau had almost definitely cried up a storm on her way here. That, along with the injuries, along with the fact that she had been sobbing up a bloody sort of snot, apparently...Yeah, she probably looked a mess.

'What the fuck happened?' His hand went straight to the phone, and Beau flinched.

'No,' she managed to croak out. What her dad had done had been a dick move, but it wasn't exactly illegal. She wasn't a child, after all. He was perfectly at liberty to kick her out whenever he wanted. 'No, don't call anyone.' A pause. 'Please.'

'Let me get you some ice at least,' he said, still clearly hesitant about the situation. Beau nodded. Instead of going to the back, he went to a chest freezer not far from the counter, and ripped open a bag of ice. The kind that people used for parties. Then, he took off his jacket, and wrapped it around the ice. Grateful, Beau pressed the improvised ice-pack to her broken face. If she got the angle right, she could keep her wrist up to it as well without it being too awkward.

'So,' Fjord said, once Beau had settled herself against the counter. 'What happened. Whose arse do I need to kick?' He was using his posh voice again. Beau preferred it to the weird drawl he'd put on last time she'd come here.

'No-one,' she muttered. 'It's fine. I just...I got kicked out. Wiped out on my board on the way here. I needed... _Fuck_. I just needed to talk to someone.'

'And _I_ was your first choice?' he seemed incredulous at the thought. 'What about Jester?'

'I...Jester asks questions,' Beau said, bluntly. She couldn't quite parse the look on Fjord's face. It seemed almost...sad?

'I get off at ten,' Fjord told her. Beau checked her watch. It was just after eight thirty. 'Do you need a place to stay?'

Beau couldn't stop the sob that followed from escaping, and nodded. Fjord gave a slight twitch, and moved his arms as though he was about to give her a hug, but then seemed to decide against it, settling on a pat to the shoulder. 'You can come clean up in the bathroom. I think we have some cold water in the fridge.'

Beau would have much preferred one of those big glass bottles sitting behind the counter, but she didn't want to put Fjord in an awkward position. At least in any more of an awkward position than she already had. He led her back to a small washroom with a toilet, and a mirror, and a cracked sink. It was nothing to write home about, but the mere fact that he was being so accommodating was almost more than Beau could handle. She'd never had too many people in her life that were willing to just...help her, no questions asked.

Looking in the mirror, Beau could see why Fjord had been horrified. Her face was...well, it looked like she'd had the shit kicked out of her, which wasn't entirely too far from the truth. She certainly _felt_ like she'd gotten the shit kicked out of her.

Her nose was definitely broken, and she was pretty sure a tooth was chipped as well. Damn, that had been a fucking good hit. Probably didn't help that her nose had already been busted up from when Tori had punched her. Beau almost laughed. More than one person in life had told her that she had a pretty punchable face.

She grabbed a wad of paper towel from the dispenser, and wiped the blood off. It didn't help much, but it made her feel a little more human.

The crying, at least, had slowed, but that was mostly because Beau wasn't sure she had anything left to cry out.

It was a good thing, then, that Fjord had water waiting for her when she came back out. Beau downed about half the bottle, like she'd been stuck in a desert for the last week. 'You aren't...I mean, I'm not gonna get you into trouble by being here, am I?'

'Not at all,' Fjord said, in an offhand sort of voice. 'You'd be surprised the number of crying, bloodied people that come in here late at night.' Beau wasn't sure if that was a joke or not, but she gave a soft sort of laugh anyway. He was weirdly good at cheering her up.

Ten o'clock came surprisingly quickly. The store closed at nine, Beau realized, and the rest of Fjord's duties involved putting the money in the safe, and securing all the cabinets, and things like that. Beau went and sat in the tiny break room in the back, just so she wouldn't get in the way. She plugged her phone into one of the sockets under the table, giving it some juice for the first time in months.

At four minutes past ten, they were getting into Fjord's car. It wasn't until that point that Beau realized she had no idea where Fjord lived. So she asked him.

'We're not going to my place,' he said, and for a brief second, Beau had a horrible sinking feeling in her chest. 'We're going to Caduceus's.'

'Fjord—'

'You don't have to answer any questions,' he said, abruptly. 'I just want him to take a look at your face and make sure you aren't going to lose an eye.' Personally, Beau thought that that was highly unlikely, but she couldn't deny that having someone take a look at her would make her feel a lot better. And Caduceus...well, he wasn't any less nosy than Jester, he was just quieter about it.

There was a long pause. 'Fine,' Beau said. 'Where does he live?'

'He lives up in the Lighthouse,' Fjord told her. Beau felt a wave of guilt wash through her. She and Tori had set off fireworks next to that lighthouse once. She didn't know that anyone lived there.

Even though it was late when they knocked on the door, Caduceus opened it within thirty seconds. He had a cup of tea in one hand, and was wearing a long, pink bathrobe. In spite of the circumstances, he was smiling genially. 'Come on in,' he said, not even bothering to ask why they were there. Really, though, it was pretty obvious.

Beau sat on the couch, while Caduceus went to get a first aid kit. He spent ten minutes or so looking her over; at her nose, and her eyes, and her wrist.

'Well doc, what's the verdict?' Beau asked.

Caduceus stared at her, blinking slowly. Finally, he said. 'Well, I'm pretty sure you don't have a concussion, but that nose is definitely broken. I'll have to set it.' He pulled a lethal looking device from his first aid kit. Something that looked like it might've been used to torture people. He looked Beau in the eye, and said, 'This is going to hurt. A lot.'

It was a good thing, then, that the Lighthouse was a long way from anything else. Beau was pretty sure her scream would have woken the dead.

The wrist, it turned out, was sprained.

Caduceus put packing inside her nostrils, and a dressing over the top of it. The wrist, he wrapped in a tight bandage. 'Ice four times a day, fifteen minutes at a time,' he told her. 'Make sure you elevate your head while you sleep for the next little while. No sports for two weeks, no contact sports for six.' Beau tried to raise an eyebrow, but failed. “Sports” was practically half her life.

But, it was better than having to go to the hospital and get x-rays, and all of those things.

'Thanks, Caduceus.' Beau was really, truly grateful. She'd had no idea that the firbolg knew anything about first aid.

'Not a problem.' Caduceus smiled. 'I'll see you at practice.' It was like this was just a normal, everyday thing for him; a couple of friends showing up on his doorstep in the middle of the night for medical attention. Beau wondered what the fuck was going on inside his head.

It was near midnight by the time they got going again. The roads were practically empty, and the car was silent.

Finally, Fjord broke it. 'Can I ask you something?' Fjord's voice was quiet. 'You don't have to answer, but...' He paused. Grimaced. 'Did your dad do that?'

Beau didn't answer straight away. When she did, she was pretty sure she was crying again. 'Yeah,' she said. Fjord didn't say anything, but when Beau looked over, she could see that he was gripping the steering wheel very tightly.

'Are you sure you don't want to call the police?'

Beau snorted, something that was much more painful today than it would have been yesterday. 'Trust me, it's more trouble than its worth.' Her father would tell the police that she'd tripped and fallen, which wasn't exactly untrue. No, if she went to the police, he had the potential to make Beau's life even more difficult than it already was.

As soon as she saw the rest of her friends, the _real_ questions would start.

The “why” being the big one.

The “why” though was the one thing that Beau couldn't tell them. It wasn't the real reason, after all. It was just the excuse. There had been that slow build of argument and rebellion ever since she had gotten arrested with Tori. In fact, Beau was surprised that he hadn't kicked her out then. At least that would have been a reasonable excuse. Hells, literally _anything_ would have been a more reasonable excuse, like the beer in her underwear drawer, or the half an ounce or so of weed that was rolled up in one of her socks.

Certainly not something as banal as being in a band.

But that wasn't _really_ it, she knew. It wasn't that she was in a band. It was that she had disobeyed him, and talked back, and hadn't taken the shit that he'd thrown at her. That was a much more complicated story that couldn't be explained in a ten minute conversation.

Fjord's apartment was...small.

The practicality of asking a friend to stay the night hadn't exactly been on Beau's mind when she'd gone to Fjord for help, but now she was here, she was starting to realize that maybe she hadn't made the right call.

'I start work early,' Fjord told her, as they squeezed in through the doorway. 'So I can sleep on the couch.'

'Fjord, I don't want—' Beau paused, frowning. 'Wait, how early? What time do liquor stores open?'

'This is my other job, at the fish market.' Beau stared at him. She had known him for two months, and this was the first time she was hearing about this second job. Rents in Nicodranas weren't exactly cheap, so it made sense, but she'd had that stupid “rich girl” attitude about the whole situation. So worried about what people thought about what had happened that she hadn't stopped to consider how her actions would affect other people.

'Seriously, you take your bed,' she told him. 'I'm fine on the couch. It's probably easier to elevate my head on it anyway.'

Fjord seemed reluctant, but apparently relieved at the same time, because he didn't argue. 'I may even by back by the time you wake up,' he said. 'But if I'm not, help yourself to breakfast.'

'I—sure.' Given that the guy was eighteen years old, and working two jobs to scrape by, Beau had absolutely no plans of raiding his fridge in the morning. She'd go out and get a breakfast burrito or something from Bigby's. 'But, ah....you know, I may get going once I wake up. Try to figure out something a little more long term.'

'You aren't going to go back there and grovel, are you?' It was weird. Of all their friends, Fjord had been the one that always advocated Beau staying on her father's good side through their arguments. After seeing her show up at his place of work bloody and bruised, though, it was like a switch had been flipped.

Beau gave a bitter sort of laugh. 'Fuck no. But you live in a fucking shoe-box, man. I don't want to cramp your style. I guess I've gotta suck up my pride and go and talk to Jester.'

Fjord couldn't quite hide his relief, and Beau didn't blame him. This was a really fucking tiny apartment, and the couch looked like it was about ten years old. A few nights on this, and she'd have a broken back as well.

He found her a clean sheet, and a blanket, and a pillow, and got her another glass of water.

'Well, anyway,' he said. 'I need to go and sleep. If I don't see you, I guess I'll...see you at Jester's?' It was now getting close to one a.m, and Beau felt like even more of a jerk. Fish markets weren't exactly late morning businesses.

The lights went out almost immediately, and Beau plugged her phone into the closest socket she could find. She didn't have any data to be able to do anything, nor any minutes to make calls, but she still felt a little more secure knowing that it was charged.

Beau had thought that she wouldn't be able to sleep, that she would spend the few hours left until sunrise fueled by adrenaline, ruminating over what had happened.

Apparently, she was more tired than she'd thought, though, because mere minutes after her head hit the (elevated) pillow, she was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost run out of partially written stuff, so next chapters may be slower.


	11. XI

XI

It was 9am when Beau woke. Much later than when she would usually get up on a weekday to go for a run with Yasha. Yasha, who she had effectively stood up without warning. Shit. Beau didn't think that Yasha would be the kind of person to go and knock on Beau's front door – on her parents' front door – even if she had known where they lived.

Not to mention the fact that Beau was late for school. There wasn't even a question of whether or not she would go. She couldn't go, looking like this. Plus, there was that whole thing of her parents being the ones to pay her tuition.

That, Beau decided, was not today's problem. Today's problem was a little less abstract: leave Fjord's place, walk to Jester's place, ask for a place to stay.

Sounded simple, in theory.

Fjord had long since gone to work, and Beau had no idea when he'd be home. She did know that she wanted to be gone by the time that he did, though. He'd already done more than enough for Beau.

Fjord's place was near the docks, about half a mile from the Restless Wharf. To get to the Opal Archways, she'd have to skirt around the Open Quay, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. There were a lot of pretty good places to have breakfast in the Open Quay; none of which Beau would normally have been able to afford, but since her mother had given her a wad of cash on the way out the door...

If it had been from Beau's father, she probably would have chucked it. Chucked it, or left it for Fjord so that he could buy a new couch. Beau rolled her neck, trying to get rid of the sharp pain that had come from sleeping on something that had potentially been picked up off the side of the road. Not that Beau was in a position to judge. Everything she owned was in a backpack at the foot of that old couch, and even that, she hadn't exactly worked for.

Stretching her aching body out, Beau stood. Her face throbbed with pain, but she was somehow in less pain than she had been the previous night. Usually, Beau had the opposite experience; adrenaline was a hell of a painkiller. But, she supposed that the added stress of having been kicked out had probably compounded matters, made the pain feel worse than it actually was.

In any case, everything was still pretty swollen, and there was no hiding the enormous bruise up around her left eye. Anyone that looked at Beau would be able to tell beyond doubt that she'd gotten a fist to the face in one way or another. She might as well just own it.

Weirdly, the wrist was the worst of it. Beau thought she might have slept on it funny; in spite of the bandage, pain shot from her middle fingertip down to her elbow. It would probably be a bitch to hold a drumstick for a while.

Again. Not today's problem.

Beau didn't hang around. She stayed just long enough to use the bathroom, and read the post-it note Fjord had left her on the correct way to make sure that the door locked properly, before heading out.

It was a pretty short walk to the Open Quay, but already the sun was bearing down uncomfortably. The Quay did, thankfully, have a Bigby's, and Beau ordered two breakfast burritos and an ungodly amount of hash browns. She didn't realize just how hungry she was, until she got to the counter (where the cashier was staring at her face).

'Got into a fight with a seagull over a hot dog,' she told him, blithely. To his credit, his eyes only widened a little bit, and he didn't ask any questions, instead putting Beau's order through.

A weird mix of relief and apprehension sunk over Beau as she sat in a window booth, eating her breakfast. Maybe part of it was the pain that came from eating solid food. She probably would have been better off with a smoothie, or something, but that didn't have nearly the same level of satisfaction.

Once she'd finished her fifteen hundred or so calories of indulgence, Beau wiped her hands with a serviette.

She picked up her phone.

Though she'd only called Jester once, she still had her phone number scrawled on a bit of paper in the bottom of her bag.

The fact that Jester picked up the phone on the first ring should have been Beau's first indication that something was off. It was so quick that she was sure she'd gone straight to voicemail. ' _Hi Beau_.' Beau's brain was moving so fast, thinking about all the possible negative outcomes, that she didn't put it together. That, plus the fact that Beau had never called Jester on this number before...

'Hi Jes. It's Beau.' Probably unnecessary, given Jester had greeted her by name. 'Can I, ah...can I come over?'

' _Of course_!' The whole “I got kicked out of home can I please stay with you until I find another place to live” conversation could maybe wait until Beau got there. ' _Do you need someone to come pick you up_?' That should have been the second indication that something was off, but still, she didn't pick up on it. Beau thought about it.

She was a couple of miles from Jester's place, with a half-broken skateboard. Beau was pretty sure the trucks just needed some tightening, but funnily enough, she hadn't packed her toolkit on the way out of the house. Hopefully there would be something at Jester's place.

It was a warm day, and Beau was sweating by the time she got there. She'd taken a very long route to avoid going anywhere near her parents' place (not _her_ place. Not anymore), even though it was highly unlikely that her dad would be around.

Heart pounding like a jackhammer, Beau walked up to Jester's front door. She didn't think she'd ever actually been _in_ through the front door before. Only through the garage.

Beau had just about managed to get a single knock on the door before it swung open. Jester, Molly and Yasha were standing there.

They all clearly saw Beau's face, and how bad it looked, but seemed to recover quickly. Yasha, though, looked like she wanted to hit something. But that wasn't the important thing (okay, it was pretty important, but that wasn't the most presently relevant thing).

Jester was carrying a large stack of movies, and some bottles of soda. Yasha was carrying pillows, and Molly had bags of popcorn. There was a very long beat of silence. It didn't take Beau long to put two and two together. 'Fjord called you.' Jester seemed to take this as permission to forget that she was pretending not to know anything about what had happened between Beau and her parents, and pulled her into a very long, very tight hug. Any other day, Beau might have resisted, but today...

Today, she needed it.

'You know, we've been waiting by the door for forty-five minutes with this stuff,' Molly said. 'Jester swore that you'd be here really soon.' Beau rolled her eyes, but felt a rush of warmth in her chest.

'Before we watch movies, you should have something to eat,' Jester said. 'We've got pancakes, and waffles, and all kinds of pastries...' She trailed off.

'I stopped at Bigby's,' Beau admitted. 'But what I could really use is a shower, if that's alright.'

'Of course it is,' Jester said, ever the host. 'Let me take you to the bathroom; Bluud already got out some spare towels and stuff.' Beau was pretty sure she'd never met a Bluud, but from context, she figured that he might have been the minotaur (Jester's father? They hadn't really talked about it, but Jester didn't seem to have hooves or a tail, as far as Beau knew).

The bathroom was _really, really_ nice. Based on the lack of personal touches, it didn't seem to be being used by anyone in particular, but on the bench was a wicker basket with some things in it; an unused toothbrush, some fancy soaps, some bubble bath, and some shampoo and conditioner that Beau knew for a fact was ungodly expensive).

'We didn't know how much stuff you'd managed to get on your way out,' Jester was saying, 'So we wanted to make sure you had everything that you needed.' Beau stared at her. Then, she looked back to Molly and Yasha. Molly shrugged.

Beau had a very long, very hot shower, careful not to get her nose wet. The wrist, she found, it was easier to just take off the bandage, and put it back on again when she was dry. Molly, apparently, was pretty good at that sort of thing, and Beau wasn't sure if she wanted to know why.

She was saved the trouble, by Jester leading her back down the hallway.

'Okay, so we've cleaned up the guest bedroom, and Momma says that you can stay as long as you need to, and decorate it how you like – we can help with that, I have _sooo_ much glitter – and if you need to find work then we can help you with that too, but like...as long as you're here, you know...you're here.'

'She means that the food is free, and the board is nothing,' Molly said, helpfully. 'But we try to help out around the house, cook meals and stuff, do the vacuuming.' Beau was certain that Molly had never touched a vacuum cleaner in his life. More likely that Yasha did the vacuuming, and Molly did his nails.

Beau didn't know what to say. She had known these people all of two months, and here they were dropping everything to help her, just because she'd had a petty little fight with her dad. She kept uncharacteristically silent as Jester led her to the spare bedroom.

It was fucking huge. There was a large four-poster bed, and an ornate wooden dresser and nightstand that looked like they might have been hand-carved. Beau had seen penthouse suites that weren't as nice as this bedroom.

Beau was utterly speechless. She would have been perfectly fine with a couch, albeit perhaps one that was a little more comfortable than Fjord's. When her words finally did come to her:

'Why aren't you two in here?'

'Well the garage is so much more comfortable,' Molly said, blithely, and then changed the subject almost immediately. 'Now I know for a fact that Jester is going to insist on having a redecoration party, so unless you want sparkly pink dicks everywhere, then you're going to have to tell us what you like.'

Beau was so thrown by the mention of sparkly pink dicks (and the horrifying thought of being in a room that was decorated with them), that she half forget the question she'd asked in the first place. It didn't escape her notice, though, how uncomfortable Yasha looked in the room, how much more at ease she seemed in Jester's room, or in the garage.

'Are you okay?' Beau asked, under her breath, after they moved to Jester's room. Yasha gave her a look that was firstly startled, and then somehow warm.

'Yes, I ah...' She frowned, and her heterochromatic eyes seemed to be searching for something that Beau couldn't see. 'Before I came to Nicodranas – back in Xhorhas – I was in a place that was a bit like this, and....some things happened that...were not good things.That is why we are in the garage.'

'Oh,' Beau said. She didn't think that there was much more that she could have said. It made sense, then, that Yasha would want to stay somewhere that didn't bring up old memories, that didn't make her think of a painful past. Beau could definitely related to that. Thankfully, Jester's place was different enough than her parents' place that it didn't really set anything off. She could definitely see how it would be a problem, though. 'Well, when we decorate it, we can make it look different. So you can spend time in here without feeling uncomfortable.'

'Spend time in your room?' Yasha asked, with a slightly cocked eyebrow. Beau froze. She hadn't meant it like that. At least, she didn't think she'd meant it like that. But now Yasha had put the idea into her head, she couldn't help but think how nice it'd be to have Yasha in her room. Not even doing anything sexy, just like...lying there. Holding hands. Talking about whatever. She wasn't sure if that was weird or not. Maybe she was just so starved for positive interactions that she would have taken anything.

'I mean, if you want,' Beau said, taking a bit of a chance. 'I'd spend time in your room, but that would mean spending more time with Molly.' She rolled her eyes dramatically, and Yasha smiled. The feud felt like more of a joke than anything, now. The easy sort of ribbing that families that didn't hate each other were supposed to have. Molly poked his tongue out, but he seemed to be grinning.

Beau gave a beleaguered sigh. 'I suppose better spending time with Molly than spending time with my parents.' Almost unconsciously, she rubbed at the still-healing wound on her lip where... _that_ had happened.

'You can live here now,' Jester said in a voice that was almost a full octave above her normal speaking voice. 'You don't have to go back to...to people that would hurt you.' A strange, unfamiliar feeling bubbled in Beau's stomach. Here she was getting more kindness and love and compassion from people she had known for two months than she had ever gotten from the people that were supposed to be her family.

Beau smiled. It was the first real, genuine smile that she'd been able to give in what felt like a long time. It didn't feel great on her split lip, but that was more of a secondary consideration.

Without even thinking about it, Beau pulled Jester and Yasha and Molly in for a hug. Jester and Yasha came without hesitation, but Molly took a little bit of convincing (and a look from Yasha).

After that, in spite of everything that had happened, it was one of the best days that Beau had had in a very long time. They watched movies, and ate pizza (cheese) and ice-cream (raspberry swirl). The best part of it was, Beau didn't have to worry about what her dad would say when she got home. She didn't have to worry about what her dad would say ever again.

It was a little sad (especially when she thought about TJ) but at the same time, so godsdamned freeing. The stupid thing was, already she knew that they were never going to mistreat TJ. Their perfect little angel boy.

Beau didn't resent him for it. He was a good kid, after all. It wasn't his fault that their parents were assholes. If nothing else, though, he would be safe, and he would be loved. Which was more than could be said for Beau. If she stayed away, she would be safe, sure, but the jury was still out on the other thing.

Tomorrow, she'd have to deal with all the problems that came along with having been kicked out of home, but today, Beau was willing to just enjoy it.


	12. XII

XII

Jester's mother usually worked nights, Beau learned, which wasn't too much of a surprise. She was pretty sure that the Lavish Chateau wasn't open during the day. What _did_ surprise Beau, was that Molly and Yasha also worked nights, something that she had somehow not figured out until this point.

'I am utterly offended,' Molly said, in a voice of faux disgust. 'Our work is of the utmost importance—'

'We do night fill at the supermarket,' Yasha interjected. 'I told our boss that we could not work tonight.'

They had both also, Beau knew, skipped school that day. It was something that she had done nonchalantly on the regular, but when you were a refugee that needed to work five times as hard to get half as much in life, every day counted. The fact that they were willing to do that for her...well, it meant a lot.

More, certainly, than she could ever hope to repay. At the very least, she could start to try.

That night as Beau lay waiting to fall asleep in her new four-poster bed, she made a list.

A list of all the things that she had to do, now that she wasn't at home any more.

One: figure out what the fuck to do about school. The school, Beau was sure, wanted to know where she was. But, since the only number that they had was her father's number, it was his problem to deal with. It wasn't as though Beau could go back there, after all. Not given the fact that he was paying her school fees. She definitely didn't have the money to cover those on her own; the Cobalt Soul Academy was not cheap.

It wasn't until now that Beau had considered the ramifications of not being able to finish school. She wouldn't be able to get her GED, wouldn't be able to go to college without her high school transcripts, wouldn't be able to do her extra-curriculars...

Of course, she was sure there would be avenues to get around that, but she really didn't want to be thinking about those right now. Now, she was just in that haze of “what the fuck do I do now?” She couldn't be relying on the hospitality of Jester's mother forever. Eventually, she would have to figure out what she was going to do.

Get a real job was probably the next step. Difficult, given the fact that Beau was certain her former employer wasn't exactly going to give her a good reference. “Yes, she stole from me, lied to me, and on the whole was a shitty daughter.” People would be lining up to hire a delinquent, semi-homeless teenager with a half-shaved head and an attitude problem.

Plus, given the fact that she didn't have access to her bank account...Her father had her bank card, and her passport, and everything except her license that she might need to try and prove her identity. She was pretty sure that the bank would at least need the card to even let Beau access whatever meager funds were even in the account.

Checking the Menagerie Coast government website, if she wanted to apply for her birth certificate, a driver's license alone wouldn't be enough. She couldn't get a new passport without her birth certificate, and couldn't get her birth certificate without her passport.

It was, on the whole, fucked.

Beau hadn't realized just how much her father had dug his claws into her life until now, about how many gaps she had just by sheer virtue of having lived under his roof.

Taxes. That was another thing that Beau needed to figure out how to deal with. She was pretty sure her parents claimed her as a dependent. That had all changed, now, too. So many little things that she'd never stopped to think about.

It was easier not to think about any of it. Easier to just lie in her little cocoon, and be grateful that at least she was out of a place that had been slowly killing her.

Around one a.m Beau woke with a growling stomach. It was weird. It wasn't as though she had skimped on food today; in fact, she'd probably eaten more today than she had a in a long time. Maybe it was something about the situation that was causing her body to go haywire. Or maybe being injured burned more calories. Whatever.

If she was at home, Beau would have crept downstairs, and taken things from the fridge that she knew wouldn't be missed. Sometimes, though, it was easier to stock up when she had the chance (she really, really hoped that her dad didn't find out until mice came looking for a quick meal. That would be hilarious).

Jester _had_ said to make herself at home, and that she could eat food whenever she wanted, but it was still with some trepidation that Beau sneaked downstairs, not wanting to get caught. In her head, she knew that nothing bad would happen if she got caught, but some habits were hard to break.

It wasn't until Beau reached the kitchen (the huge fucking kitchen) that she realized she wasn't the only one taking a nighttime wander.

Yasha was standing in the soft light of the fridge, eating from what looked like a jar of capers. Beau had been walking softly, so as not to wake anyone, the result of which was when she stepped into the light, Yasha started, eyes as wide as an owl. She just barely managed to not drop the jar of capers.

'Shit, sorry,' Beau whispered. She was taken, suddenly, by how nice Yasha looked. Her hair had been brushed out, and she was wearing a soft looking t-shirt that was several sizes too big. She looked...comfortable.

'No, no, it's okay,' Yasha said. 'I was just here...eating these capers.' Her eyes were still wide, and Beau wondered if she was making Yasha uncomfortable. 'Would you like one?' She offered the jar to Beau. Beau had never exactly been a fan of capers (at least not on their own), but this wasn't exactly about the capers.

Beau put two fingers into the jar, and pulled out a caper. Yasha had such an excited, expectant sort of look on her face now that Beau didn't even think before eating it whole. It was about as she had expected, but somehow the saltiness seemed a little less overpowering than usual. It was kind of nice. Or maybe it just tasted nicer because she was manifesting Yasha's love of them.

'This might be a weird question,' Beau said, 'But does Jester's Mom like...keep track of what's in the fridge?' Yasha frowned.

'Do you mean are we not allowed to eat some things?' Beau nodded. Snacking outside of mealtimes had been frowned on in the Lionett household. “You don't want to ruin your dinner,” Beau's mother had always said, but Beau knew that it was just another way that her parents were exerting their control over her life. She was half-surprised that they'd even kicked her out, given that it meant they couldn't control her anymore.

'No, I think we can pretty much eat whatever we want,' Yasha said. She was giving Beau a strange look, as though she suspected something beyond Beau was actually telling her. Beau had a sudden realization.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly sudden. She'd sort of maybe suspected it for a very long time. That the things that her parents did weren't exactly...well, normal. Like parents weren't supposed to confiscate their adult children's possessions for months at a time, and restrict their legally earned money, or backhand them across the face when kicking them out of the house. She'd always known they were assholes, but for some reason she'd just assumed that everyone's parents were assholes. But even though Beau had barely traded even a dozen words with Jester's mother, the mere fact that she had been so accommodating, so welcoming to Beau meant that that wasn't true.

There was some leftover chicken and mashed potatoes that according to Yasha, had been dinner from the night before last. Beau scarfed it down without even bothering to microwave it, she was that hungry.

'Is the food here much different?' Beau asked Yasha, halfway through a mouthful of potato. She didn't know all that much about Xhorhasian food; there was a bit of a stigma about it in Nicodranas. Beau had the vague memory of a Xhorhasian restaurant that had opened up, but quickly closed due to both lack of business, and incessant graffiti.

'Um, a bit,' Yasha said, lightly. 'Xhorhasian food can be very meaty, and spicy. Not good for the stomach if you aren't used to it. The part where I am from ate a lot of bugs, which are very hard to find here.' Beau wasn't sure if she'd heard Yasha right.

'Did you say bugs?'

'Yes, and spider, and rat sometimes, too. I will try to make some for you someday, if I can find a place that sells it.' Once upon a time, Beau would have wrinkled her nose in disgust at the idea of eating bugs. Somehow, the fact that it was Yasha made it different. The capers suddenly made a bit more sense.

Beau grinned. She desperately – _desperately –_ wanted to kiss Yasha right now. This wonderfully interesting, amazing woman who had no godsdamned idea just how perfect she was.

But even if Beau knew that Yasha would have reciprocated (which she didn't), her lips and her teeth were still pulsing with pain from having been whacked across the face.

It could wait until Beau wasn't in such a messed up place. It could wait until she had gotten her life back on track.

The next day, Molly and Yasha went to school.

Beau sat in with Jester's morning lessons with her tutor, a young man with outrageous hair that was even more orange than Caleb's, who told Beau to call him Artagan. Beau wasn't sure why he gave her such a weird vibe, but Jester seemed to adore him, and he clearly had a wide range of knowledge and experience.

Luckily, though, the lessons only lasted up until lunchtime, after which Jester told Beau that Fjord, and Caleb, and Caduceus would be coming around to play some music. Beau looked at her bandaged hand. 'I mean, I'm not sure how much use I'm going to be,' Beau told her. Every time she'd tried to grip her sticks so far, a spasm of pain had shot through her wrist. It was technically possible to play one-handed, but it was a skill that Beau hadn't even thought to try up until now.

She had been with the band long enough to know, though, that often “playing music” often just meant shooting the shit, with the occasional song thrown in just for fun.

Today, it seemed like it would be one of those days. Beau had a few cursory goes at trying to do a single-stroke roll with only one hand, and failed miserably.

'Wait, wait, can I try?' Jester asked. Beau threw her the sticks, and watched as Jester...well, Jester mostly just had fun hitting the cymbals.

As the afternoon sauntered on, Beau found herself sitting in the corner with Caleb, helping him reconfigure the fog machine. 'How are you doing?' he asked, in such a way that Beau knew immediately that the entire band was now aware of her predicament. 'It is a, ah...difficult situation that you are in, for sure.'

'You're telling me,' Beau muttered. 'Old man still has my important paperwork, and I sure as fuck don't want to have to go back there and beg for it.'

Caleb swallowed. He looked around to make sure none of the others were listening in. Fjord and Jester were standing over by the keyboard, and Caduceus was practicing a death wail. 'It is, ah...not too difficult to obtain new paperwork.' In that moment, he seemed to make a decision. He opened his own wallet, and showed her his driver's license. 'Here. Indistinguishable from a real one.'

Beau stared at him. 'Are you _kidding_ me?' she asked, in a stage whisper. 'Have you been underage this entire time?' The birth-date (presumably also fake) was a date some nineteen years prior.

'No, no.' Caleb shook his head. 'The date...well, it is also fake, but I am not underage. I am...it is the name that is fake. Caleb is not my real name.'

Of all the things that Beau had been expecting from this conversation, that was not one of them. She didn't know Caleb particularly well (at least not as well as she knew Jester, or Yasha, or even Molly), so for him to drop this bombshell on her was...it was something.

'It wouldn't have been easier just to fill out a change of name form?' Beau asked. The past few days, she had somehow become a near-expert on different types of identity documents. She had also briefly considered changing her name to Beauregard Isthebest. Mostly because it would have been funny (and maybe only partly because the name Lionett wasn't something she really wanted to be associated with anymore).

Caleb did not answer straight away. 'Not when the people you are trying to get away from will be looking for a paper trail.'

Okay, _there_ was the can of worms that Beau had been looking for. Or not looking for. The can of worms that had just sort of showed up. 'Right,' she said.

Caleb seemed to come back to reality. He gave a shaky sort of smile. 'But that is a problem for another day,' he said.

On the whole, Beau didn't want to go the path of having to get a fake I.D. Too many issues, especially if her father decided that he wanted to make her life difficult (or more difficult than it already was).

Weirdly, she didn't think he would.

Not because he didn't want to cause her more grief. On the contrary, Beau was pretty sure that causing Beau grief was the main reason that he did some things.

But to admit that his daughter had stolen from the winery, had committed the unforgivable sin of hanging out with friends, had been generally delinquent...no, that wasn't something that he would want to get around. It would be too much of a blow to his reputation if he tried to press charges.

That didn't mean he wouldn't be able to make Beau's life difficult. His mere existence made Beau's life difficult. Even with him as out of Beau's life as he could possibly be, she couldn't get the ghost of him out of her head. He would forever be in there, judging her, making her feel like she was worthless. _Two days out of home, and you can't even manage to function like an adult. It's no wonder we had to coddle you._

Unconsciously, Beau clenched her fist. 'Is everything alright, Beauregard?' Beau had forgotten that Caleb was sitting opposite her, engaging in clandestine take of definitely not legal activities.

'Yeah, I uh...thanks for the offer,' Beau told him. 'I'm gonna see if I can figure out another way around this.'

She knew the way around it, of course. Just like she'd known it from the beginning. She would have to go and knock on his door, and eat maybe just a little bit of crow.

'I would ah...appreciate if you did not tell anyone about that,' Caleb said, quietly. 'Molly knows, of course. And Veth. But the more people that know...well, I would just prefer that not many people know. It is not important.'

'Right.' Beau nodded. Once again, this felt like something that was much bigger than her problems. She had parents that didn't want her, of course, but nothing like whatever the fuck it was Caleb was dealing with.

Beau knew, ostensibly, that her friends were trying to cheer her up, trying to keep her distracted and positive in the face of the unknown.

When she went to bed that night, though, Beau somehow found that she felt just as low as she had before she'd even conceived of the idea of leaving her home.


	13. XIII

XIII

Whether consciously or not, Beau had been avoiding Jester's mother. She wasn’t even entirely sure why. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that, in her head, adults asked questions. Beau was sure that Jester had already told her mother everything that had happened, and Ms. Lavorre was simply giving Beau space.

Just as likely, though, was that Beau didn’t particularly want to be faced with the reality of what an actual parent that cared looked like. It was already bad enough that a near complete stranger had opened their doors to Beau with little fanfare, the last thing she needed was for someone to demonstrate exactly what it was that Beau had been missing out on for the last eighteen years.

Somehow, that would make the pain even worse.

Beau couldn't fathom why she felt so low. She should have been ecstatic, being out of there, but instead, she only felt flat. Nothing that she would have previously done for pleasure gave her any satisfaction anymore. Not going for a run, or drumming, or watching shitty horror movies...Not that she could technically even do half of those things, with still-healing injuries.

Jester and Yasha and Molly were more patient than Beau deserved. They didn’t retaliate when she snapped at them, and didn’t push her to do all the things she knew she needed to do, but really didn’t want to, like go deal with school, or figure out a way to get work.

‘They are hiring at the supermarket where we work,’ Yasha said, in such a way that Beau knew she wasn’t trying to push. ‘It is not very fun, but it is easy to work around school.’ Beau gave a non-committal grunt of assent.

Jester’s attempts at arranging a room-decorating party were somewhat less subtle. She came bounding into the room one morning with a catalogue of paint colors and a sketchbook. None of the suggestions that she made had any sort of appeal. What did it matter what color the walls were? It wasn’t as though Beau was going to be there for much longer. If she couldn’t go to school, then what point was there in staying in Nicodranas? Might as well get a cash-under-the-table job. A lot of the ship captains that hung around the docks area were always looking for young, able-bodied people with no other prospects in life.

Spending her days hauling in fish nets wasn’t something that Beau had ever envisioned doing, but it was at least better than the alternative, which was picking grapes. Working on a fishing trawler, Beau would at least be out on the ocean.

So that was her vague plan.

Not a great plan, but the only plan she had. Once the swelling on her nose went down, and she could breathe again without pain, she would go down to the docks, and figure it all out.

The others might be upset, but Beau was sure they would get over it. After all, they’d only known her a couple of months.

The next day, however, changed all of that. It started the same way that the last few of them had. With Yasha knocking on Beau’s door at six o’clock, asking if she wanted to go for a walk, and Beau grumbling out a tired “no,” before falling back asleep for another four hours.

Only this time, at around 9:15, there was another knock on Beau’s door. 'Beau, there's someone here to see you.' Jester's voice was quiet, like she didn't want to disturb the way Beau was lying in the dark with her curtains drawn.

Beau couldn’t fathom who would possibly want to see her. Especially not given how much she’d been pushing people away. It made it easier, that way. Less painful when they finally decided that they’d had enough of her. It had been a week since she’d been gone from home, and she hadn’t even got so much as a text message from either of her parents. Not that she wanted one, but still. She would have at least thought that they’d want to know whether or not she was dead.

But no. Apparently not. Unless this was one of them now, and Beau sorely doubted that it was. Neither of her parents would ever do anything as pedestrian as call on someone’s house at 9:15 in the morning unannounced.

‘Beau?’ Jester was still there, apparently waiting for an answer.

‘Who is it?’ By way of an answer, Jester pushed the door open, and Beau could just barely see the two dark silhouettes standing there, one with horns, and the other—

'You are a mess.' Beau was utterly surprised to hear Dairon's voice. She sat up in bed, blinking against the darkness.

'What the fuck are you doing here?' Beau muttered. She didn't move as Dairon moved across the room to the curtains. Half a second later, there was bright light streaming in, and Beau's head was wracked with pain. She couldn't imagine any situation in which her former guidance counselor would be rocking up at the house she was temporarily crashing at.

Slowly, the dark-skinned elven figure came into clarity. She was wearing her normal blue and gray robes, and had a very serious look on her face. 'You have not been at school for the last week and a half.' Had it really been that long? Beau had maybe sort of lost track of time in her haze of depression. But even then...

It couldn't have been just that. Beau had been absent for much longer stretches before, when she'd been dragged off to Kamordah without warning, or when she'd broken a bone, or gotten a horrendous case of the flu. 'So what?'

'I spoke with your father—' A very distasteful sneer crossed their lips— 'He advised me that you were no longer residing at his house.'

Beau snorted. That was certainly one way to put it. 'Is that all he told you?' she asked. She knew that her nose was still somewhat swollen, and the bruise across the right side of her face had not entirely faded. Dairon could almost certainly put two and two together.

'Marion told me the rest,' Dairon said, quietly. If Beau were a little more with it, Beau might have made comment on the fact that “the Ruby of the Sea” was now “Marion.” Or the fact that there was a strange lightness in Dairon's eyes as she said the name. Jester's mother did have that effect on people.

'Well then you know that I can't go to a school that I can't afford to pay for.'

Dairon did not sound remotely perturbed. ‘There are other ways to deal with that problem,’ they said. ‘Did you really think that a school as prestigious as the Cobalt Soul would not have scholarship options?’ A very rude response played on Beau’s tongue, and she had to try very hard to stop herself from blurting it out.

After all, Dairon was actually here to help her.

‘I can’t open a bank account,’ Beau said. She wasn’t sure why, but that seemed like the most important thing for her to say in the moment. ‘Don’t you need a bank account to get a scholarship?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Even in the low light, Beau could tell that Dairon was frowning. ‘Why can’t you open a bank account?’

‘Because I can’t get my passport without…without going back there.’ This time, Beau couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice from escaping. The thought of having to face her father again, to even go back to the house, filled her with such dread. Even looking at her phone, knowing that he had her number, was terrifying, but a new SIM card was just another one of those things that you needed a passport for.

Dairon straightened. There seemed to be a change in her whole demeanor, though when she spoke, it was like she hadn’t heard a word that Beau had said. ‘I want to see you at school  tomorrow . If not in uniform for classes, then at least to my office to discuss things further.  Be ready to work up a sweat .’

Beau couldn’t fathom why it was that Dairon wanted her to  be ready to work up a sweat , but she also knew better than to argue.

Dairon was gone almost as quickly as she had arrived. There had barely even been a “goodbye,” but Beau knew better than to be insulted by that. That was just who Dairon was.

Now that she was awake, Beau decided that she should at least shower. Shower, and maybe have some breakfast. Exactly what it was that Dairon thought they could do, Beau didn’t know, but for the first time, there was a tiny glimmer of hope in Beau’s heart.

So she sat in with Jester’s classes again, and helped Ms Lavorre make dinner, and tried not to catch Jester’s eye when her mother asked questions about Dairon. 

The next day, Beau went to school. She didn’t have a uniform to wear, so she wore her gym clothes, and packed a water bottle and a towel. Dairon occasionally helped the judo team with weights training, and the occasional striking drills to get their minds off grappling, so Beau knew that when Dairon said “work up a sweat,” it would not be an insignificant one.

It wasn’t.

Beau met Dairon at their office, and before they’d even started to talk, Dairon led Beau to the school gym. It wasn’t a long session, but it had been so long since Beau had done anything more active than walk to the fridge, that even the warm-up had her heart pounding. Her wrist was still a little sore, but Dairon apparently knew the right exercises that wouldn’t aggravate it too much.

It felt good.

After Beau had showered, they returned to Dairon’s office, and the elf unlocked her desk drawer, and put a bag on her desk.  A large bag, emblazoned with the  _Tasha’s_ logo on the side.  _Tasha’s_ was an upmarket department store that Beau’s mother shopped at. Beau didn’t know of anyone else that shopped there.

They indicated an eyebrow towards in, inviting Beau to look inside.

At the very bottom were what looked like all of her school uniforms. On the top was an envelope.

It was a thick envelope, with the name “Beauregard” emblazoned on it in her father’s neat, but somehow angry handwriting. Beau’s heart seized in her chest. Was this… Beau picked it up, and tore it open.

In side, as Beau knew from the moment she picked it up, was her passport and birth certificate, and all of her records. Even her vaccination certificates from when she was a toddler were in there. ‘How did you—?’

‘I walked up there, and knocked on the front door,’ Dairon told her. ‘Your father was hesitant at first, but after I explained to him that I was a mandatory reporter, he changed his tune.’

Beau snorted. She would have given a lot to have seen the look on her father’s face. ‘You don’t feel bad about blackmailing someone?’

‘I would call it…’ Dairon paused, and seemed to consider her thoughts. ‘Aggressive negotiations.’ Beau raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. She was pretty sure the fact that her father hadn’t come out of the situation with his face bloodied to a pulp meant that Dairon had actually been fairly restrained about the whole situation.

‘I mean…I don’t even know how to begin to thank you. This is…fuck, Dairon.’

Dairon gave a look that anyone else might have mistaken for stern, but Beau knew her too well. ‘You will thank me by putting on that uniform and coming to school tomorrow. By attending your extra-curriculars, and continuing to ensure that your grades remain exemplary.’ Beau opened her mouth to interject. What she was actually going to say, though, she had no idea. Dairon held up a finger. ‘In regards to your tuition, I have had a chat with Principal Fon, and they have agreed that in exchange for your assistance in helping Zeenoth in the library twice a week, your tuition will be taken care of.’

Beau stared at them, open-mouthed. ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you care so much?’

Dairon didn’t answer. Instead, they gave Beau a small smile, putting a steady, but friendly hand on Beau’s shoulder.

‘I will see you tomorrow, Beauregard.’


	14. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussions of PTSD in this chapter.

XIV

The next few weeks went as smoothly as Beau could have hoped for. As soon as Beau was able, she went to the bank with her newly recovered bank card, and her passport, and closed her old account. It probably would have been far easier to just take her father off as an authorized user, but Beau vastly preferred the idea of having an account that he had no knowledge of, at an entirely different bank.

The withdrawn funds amount to a few hundred gold, which was certainly much, much less than what Beau had actually earned working for her father, but going after him for lost wages was not a battle that Beau particularly wanted to fight at this stage. It was worth the however many thousand gold she lost just to not have to deal with him.

Some of the gold, she deposited in her new account (at a completely different bank), and the rest she used to buy her friends lunch, as a thank-you for them putting up with her miserable ass for the last few weeks.

Jester’s mother had politely declined the invitation. ‘I would not want to cramp your style,’ she said, with a small smile. Beau suspected that it was more than that, but she didn’t ask questions. Not of the person that was essentially giving her a second chance at life. One of the people, anyway.

‘You know,’ Molly said, as he took a not particularly delicate bite of his hamburger. ‘We should let you be a bitch to us more often if it means we get free lunch at the end of it.’ Beau wasn’t close enough to punch him, so she settled for a very rude gesture.

‘ _Molly_ ,’ Jester said, in a chastising sort of voice. ‘Beau has been through a lot, we have to be nice.’

In all honesty, Beau didn’t entirely mind. While the fact that her friends had been so utterly caring made her heart sing, she also liked the fact that she had at least one person in her life that would treat her just the same, regardless of what had happened.

What happened, was that life sort of just continued on for a bit. Beau went to school, and did her homework, and helped out in the library two days a week. At first, she thought she’d gotten off sort of easy, getting her school fees dealt with in exchange for helping in the library, but then she met Zeenoth.

Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. She already knew Zeenoth as the librarian that gave her grief every time she coughed a little too loudly, or absentmindedly made notes in the margin of whatever book she was reading. But now, he was technically her boss. A boss that wasted no time in telling Beau off for looking at her phone when she should have been restocking the shelves, or rolling her eyes when she was asked to assist one of the freshmen in finding a book on owlbears.

The worst part of it was, doing it two afternoons a week meant that she had to drop out of the basketball team. It was either that, or judo, and Beau got far too much pleasure from throwing people to do that.

They had a redecoration party in Beau’s room one Yulisen, in lieu of band practice. In all honesty, though, there wasn’t a huge amount to be done. The walls were painted a sky blue, and they put new sheets on the bed, and hung some posters. Beau didn’t want to spend _that_ much money. She knew Ms. Lavorre would have been okay with it, but given that Beau would more than likely be spending only a few more months here, she didn’t want to do too much.

Still, it was nice to have a space that she could _actually_ call her own, rather than a tiny room in the house of people that had done almost everything in their power to make Beau miserable. Okay, so Beau’s mother hadn’t been _that_ bad, but she hadn’t really done a whole lot to stop things, either. Beau had thought she might have gotten a message, or _something_ from her mother checking in, but there was nothing. The only reason Beau would have bothered doing it herself was to check on TJ, but she decided that on the whole, a clean break was better. She didn’t want to confuse the poor kid.

At least now, her homework was a little easier to do. Instead of sitting in her bedroom in the Lionett house, with its straight backed chairs, and strictly enforced rules about no music, Beau went down to the garage, and wrote argumentative essays with occasional breaks to shoot the shit with Jester, Molly and Yasha. Jester didn’t actually _have_ homework, but she tried to help anyway.

Caleb came around sometimes to hang out with Molly, and he was surprisingly knowledgeable about almost all the subjects that Beau was taking. They got into a bit of an argument once about the Cult of Tiamat, but Beau was enjoying having someone to argue with without fearing that it might turn violent.

‘Wow, Beau, your homework is _way_ harder than Yasha and Molly’s,’ Jester said, one evening, when Beau finally threw aside her just-completed math homework. It wasn’t _that_ complicated – just some pretty basic Calculus – but Beau _was_ taking much harder classes than anyone else except maybe Veth, who Beau was pretty sure was a closet genius.

‘She is very smart,’ Yasha commented. Beau started. She wasn’t used to compliments. Let alone compliments from someone that she was maybe sort of crushing on. Beau gave an uncertain sort of smile, that Yasha returned.

Later, when Beau was getting ready to go back upstairs, Yasha came over to her. There was a strange precariousness that seemed to radiate off of her. Like she wasn’t sure she wanted to do what she was about to do.

‘There is something...Would you be able to help me to write something?’ Yasha asked. She had a notebook and pen clutched in her hand. She looked over at Molly’s bed, where he and Caleb were sitting, talking about whatever it was that young couples talked about these days. ‘Ah...maybe we could do it in your room?’

‘Sure,’ Beau said. Her heart leaped a little at the idea of being alone with Yasha in her bedroom. Not that she expected anything to happen. It was just...yeah.

The look on Yasha’s face was apprehensive. More than that, it was nervous. It was the sort of look that Beau might have had before telling her father that she had accidentally broken his lucky jade rabbit.

On the way out of the garage, Jester gave Beau a wink, which Beau summarily ignored. She led Yasha up to her bedroom, and after they were both inside… ‘Do you want me to shut the door?’

Yasha hesitated. ‘Ah...yes. I think that would be best.’ Beau had no idea what it was that Yasha wanted her help with with the door shut. It didn’t have the energy of anything that Beau had done with Tori, so she was pretty sure she wasn’t about to get laid.

They sat down on the edge of the bed, and Beau waited for Yasha to feel comfortable enough to ask what she was going to ask. It took a couple of minutes, and some small talk about the weather.

‘So, I ah...I have been writing things for college admissions essays,’ Yasha told her. ‘Molly said that they sometimes like to read about times that people have experienced diversity.’ She frowned.

‘Adversity?’ Beau offered, gently.

‘Yes, adversity.’ Yasha nodded. ‘But, ah...it is a difficult thing to write about, and as you know, my Common is not so good.’ Her Common was excellent, but Beau had definitely told Yasha that before. ‘I have written some things, but they are very...I cannot find a way to make them sound interesting. Would you be able to take a look?’

‘Sure,’ Beau said. She hadn’t even thought about it. Even if she had, though, she didn’t think she could possibly have predicted what was going to come next. Maybe she should have, though, given what little she knew about Yasha’s past. Or the fact that adversity didn’t exactly come from happy experiences.

Yasha handed over her notebook, open to a page with lots of things that had been started, and then crossed out. Near the bottom was a short paragraph that had been written in very careful, painstaking handwriting.

_My name is Yasha Nydoorin. I was born in Xhorhas. When I was ten years old, my family was killed in by Empire soldiers. I was rescued by a man named Obann. He took me to his house and raised me. He was very cruel. When I was_ _fourteen some people came and killed Obann. I was taken to a refugee camp. I met Molly there. The people at the camp helped us apply for resettlement in Nicodranas. Now I live in Nicodranas with my foster family, who I love very much._

‘Yash—’ Beau’s voice cracked as she spoke. She had no idea what to say. She had no idea what she _could_ say. The fact that Yasha had trusted her enough to let her read this, trusted her enough to help with this...Beau put the notebook on the bed.

‘Molly said that the universities like to hear about the things you have overcome,’ Yasha said, her voice getting higher with each word that she spoke. She had apparently forgotten that she had already told Beau this part. ‘I don’t...I’m not very good at writing about the things that happened to me, or how they make me feel.’ There was a long pause. ‘It is very difficult to talk about, even with my therapist.’

‘I...I didn’t know you were in therapy,’ was the only thing that Beau could think to say. It was a stupid thing to say. Why would she have had the right to know that? It was something that Yasha could tell or not tell as many people as she wanted to.

‘I mean, it is mostly just talking to other people that have been through similar experiences,’ Yasha said. Her cheeks colored slightly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring this all up suddenly. You do not want to hear about my problems.’

It took Beau half a second to notice that there were tears pressed in the corner of Yasha’s eyes, and another few seconds after that for Yasha to be full-on crying.

Beau felt supremely unqualified to handle this situation. She’d never exactly been praised for her people skills, after all. So she did what she’d always wanted someone to do when she was crying, and pulled Yasha into a hug, rubbing a comforting hand over her back.

Rather than pulling away, Yasha rested her head against Beau’s shoulder. ‘Thank-you, Beau,’ she murmured, into the fabric of Beau’s shirt. Beau didn’t even know how to begin to explain that the mere thought of being with Yasha was what had kept her going through some hard times, that she would do anything in the world to return that favor, even if Yasha hadn’t even known about it.

‘I’ve got you, Yasha,’ Beau said. ‘I’ve got you.’

It took a bit for Yasha to stop crying. Her eyes were red, and glassy, and she kept averting her gaze. ‘You alright?’ Beau asked. She felt guilty for having been the person that Yasha had to go to for this, when she was sure Molly, or even Jester would have been far better at it.

‘I...yes,’ Yasha told her. ‘This happens sometimes, I’m sorry. I...This is a weird thing for me to ask, but...may I stay in here with you tonight?’

Beau froze. She stared at Yasha, open-mouthed.

‘I—it was a stupid question, of course that wouldn’t be okay—’

‘No!’ Beau blurted out. _Wait, shit!_ ‘I mean yes. Gods, Yasha, of course you can stay in here tonight. Do you want the bed? I can sleep on the floor.’

‘No, ah…’ Yasha gestured not to the bed, but to Beau. It took a moment for Beau to figure it out, but when she did. Oh.

_Oh._

‘You want to like...cuddle?’ Beau’s voice cracked as she asked the question. Yasha was surely just looking for someone to comfort her. It didn’t really matter who.

‘Would that be weird?’

‘No.’ The answer came without Beau even thinking. How could it possibly have been weird? The idea felt as natural as breathing. The idea of holding Yasha in her arms, of spending the night with her without even considering all the usual things, was...perfect.

They put away their books, and Beau got changed into her pyjamas. She made a token effort at modesty, but Yasha didn’t seem to be paying any attention to that. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out into the night sky. Hmm. Maybe Beau should have been shutting the curtains when she got dressed. Oh well, too late now.

While Yasha got ready for bed, Beau went to brush her teeth. She was suddenly grateful that Jester’s room was on the other side of the house. This definitely wasn’t something that she wanted to be answering questions about right now.

Beau turned on the bedside light, and turned off the main light. She had dealt with enough of TJ’s nightmares to know that light helped. Whether or not Yasha would have nightmares after having to relive some of the things that had happened to her (even in writing) Beau didn’t know, but she was maybe sort of starting to suspect why it was that Molly and Yasha shared the garage.

Her confirmation came five minutes later, when they had both settled into the bed. Beau had forgotten how much she liked having someone to wrap her arms around. She hesitated, slightly, before pressing a kiss to the top of Yasha’s head. She could feel Yasha freeze beneath her. ‘I’m sorry, that was—’

‘No,’ Yasha interjected. ‘No, it was perfect.’ A long pause. ‘Um...I do not know if it will happen tonight, but sometimes I have nightmares.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Beau said, even as she gave Yasha a tight squeeze. ‘I’ve got you.’


	15. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapter, this one has some slightly heavy stuff in it. Please note the tags.

XV

Beau had half expected to be woken in the middle of the night. Not often, but once or twice a month, TJ had woken from bad dreams, and Beau’s room was the closest, so it was usually her that calmed him down. She wondered who did it now? Would Beau’s mother be the one getting up in the middle of the night, stroking his back, assuring him that everything would be okay? Beau couldn’t exactly picture it, but then, it was far more likely than her father being the one to do it.

Instead, it was the sun peeking through the window that roused Beau from slumber. Her arms, which had sort of been wrapped around Yasha’s midsection when they’d fallen asleep, were now lazily draped across her torso.

It was...it was nice.

Definitely not the sort of thing she’d ever done with Tori. That had always been a lot more...well, physical. Not a great deal of cuddling.

Bladder full, Beau tried to carefully extricate herself without waking Yasha. It was a very slow process, but it soon became apparent that Yasha was very much fast asleep. She didn’t even stir as Beau tiptoed across to the door, quietly opening it.

‘Oh my god!’ Jester was standing right there, and Beau was pretty sure she’d been pressed right up against the keyhole, trying to look through. Though her voice was barely a loud whisper, Beau shot her head back to the bed. Yasha didn’t move. ‘Did you guys—’ Beau pushed her out into the hallway.

‘Shhh!’ Beau said, perhaps a little more aggressively than she had intended, but given that she was pretty sure Jester was trying to listen for any moans or groans, it was probably a somewhat justified aggression. ‘We didn’t do anything.’ Not strictly true, but they hadn’t done anything that Jester would have considered something. ‘We just talked.’

‘But like, you guys are together now, right? You probably will you know…’ Jester gave a knowing look. ‘Hrmm hrmm hrmm, at one point right?’ Beau was pretty sure she could guess what “hrmm hrmm hrmm” meant.

‘Let me pee, and then we can talk.’ Beau walked past Jester to her bathroom, and spent a little longer than she would have otherwise on the toilet, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. It wasn’t Beau’s place to repeat anything that Yasha had told her (or written to her, as the case might have been) regardless of whether or not she thought that Jester already knew.

Jester, predictably, was waiting right outside the bathroom door. ‘Soooooo?’ she said, still whispering loudly. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing happened,’ Beau said, shrugging. ‘We talked, she asked if we could like cuddle, I said yes, and then we did. I don’t think it means anything.’ Well it probably meant something. She probably wouldn’t ask Caleb to cuddle, for example. ‘I mean, I don’t think it means what I wa—what it could mean.’

‘She likes you, you know?’ Jester said, knowingly. ‘Like, we had that audition, and I asked all of the group, like “oohhh, what do you think of her,” and Yasha said that she likes you, and she gave like a tiny secret smile, you know those smiles she does when she’s thinking something but she doesn’t want to say it?’

Beau did know those smiles. Those smiles were one of her favorite things that Yasha did. But that didn’t really mean anything. Yasha could have been thinking about anything.

Jester, apparently, was very good at reading the exact thoughts that were going through Beau’s head. ‘Beau!’ she insisted. ‘When someone asks you to cuddle, that’s like…a _big_ deal. She absolutely wants that cuddle to be something more. Trust me, I know these things.’

Beau wanted nothing more than to go and lie in her bed again with Yasha, but she got the sense that if she did that, then Jester would take it as confirmation that they were in fact in a relationship.

So Beau decided that, even though it was barely six a.m (what the _fuck_ was Jester doing up this early) it was high time for breakfast. To her annoyance, Jester decided that she was also interested in having breakfast. Beau loved Jester dearly, but there were some things – a lot of things – that she would prefer waiting until she had a clear head to talk about.

‘So like, you know, if you have questions about sex and stuff, Momma knows a _lot_ about it,’ Jester said, even as Beau filled a bowl with cornflakes. She grimaced slightly, and set the cereal box down heavily. ‘Jester, I’m not a virgin,’ she said.

Jester seemed mildly surprised. ‘Oh, no, of course,’ she said. ‘Like, you slept with Tori and stuff. Sure. She _was_ pretty hot.’ Beau decided not to mention the relationship before Tori. The less said about that particular relationship the better.

‘I’ll put it this way,’ Beau said, evenly. ‘ _If_ I ever end up fucking Yasha, I do not need anybody’s input or advice.’

At that exact moment, Beau heard footsteps. She looked up, horrified. It was too late to take back what she had said, but if she was lucky…

She wasn’t lucky. It wasn’t Yasha, though Beau thought perhaps that probably would have been less of a problem, because the footsteps belonged to Molly.

‘Who’s fucking Yasha?’ he asked, giving Beau a look that could have quite accurately been described as an evil eye.

‘ _Nobody_ ,’ Beau said, firmly. She poured milk into her bowl with excessive vigor, and the milk splashed all over the counter-top. ‘Fuck.’

‘Bet you’d like to though, huh?’ Molly said. Beau wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve being ambushed in the kitchen at six in the morning by Molly and Jester. There were probably a lot of things.

‘We _talked_ ,’ Beau snapped. ‘She told me some things, and they maybe weren’t great things, so I comforted her, and that’s it.’ Weirdly, it was that sentence that got Molly off her back. He sort of nodded, and gave her a smile, and went to the fridge to make toast. Jester was not so easily swayed. She didn’t ask further questions, but when Yasha came down to breakfast ten minutes later, she watched both her and Beau with eagle eyes, giving a little chuckle of glee when Yasha smiled in Beau’s direction.

Beau refocused her attention on her cornflakes, and tried not to look at Yasha. If she did, she knew that she would blush so hard even Fjord would have noticed what was going on. Beau wished like anything that Molly and Jester would go the fuck away so she could at least _talk_ to Yasha without it being a thing, but apparently the promise of juicy gossip kept both tiefling rapt and unmoving.

Yasha was apparently not interested in breakfast. Rather than going to the fridge, or the pantry, she made a beeline for Beau, and stood next to her. Beau realized that she would not be able to stare at her cornflakes too much longer. She looked up, and felt the telltale blush cross her cheeks.

‘Could we go for a walk?’ Yasha asked. She sounded very uncertain about the whole thing. Beau tried to ignore the double thumbs up from Jester off to her left. Molly, on the other hand, had a very serious look on his face, which Beau understood to mean “if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” Beau was pretty sure if she hurt Yasha, she would probably let it happen.

‘Sure,’ Beau said. She dumped her empty bowl in the sink, making a mental note to do the dishes properly when she got back. Contributing to the household, and all.

It was a nice day. Beau expected Yasha to take her to the park, but instead Yasha said, ‘Do you mind if we go down to the beach?’ Beau didn’t mind. She quite liked the beaches of Nicodranas, even if she didn’t get to go to them as much as she would have liked. It was a decent walk to the beach, but Yasha’s company was nice enough that it didn’t matter one bit.

They sat on the sand, and watched the wave break against the shore. It was a strangely peaceful sight, and that, in addition to Yasha sitting next to her, filled Beau with a calm that she had not felt in some time. Almost to the point that she forgot what had happened yesterday, and the reason why Yasha might have asked her to come for a walk.

They sat in comfortable silence for almost twenty minutes. Yasha seemed to be just as settled by the waves as Beau. To have something like this that they could share...it was nice.

Finally, though, Yasha spoke. ‘Ah...thank-you for last night. I was not expecting that I would get so worked up about things, but...it comes out of nowhere sometimes.’

Beau could relate. She had often thought she’d had a handle on things, only to get hit by a freight train of emotion when she least expected it.

‘I just wanted to...give you some context for the things that you read,’ Yasha continued. Almost unconsciously, she took Beau’s hand in hers, and Beau squeezed.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Beau said, gently, and she meant it. However curious she was about Yasha’s past, she was much more concerned about Yasha’s present. She didn’t want to be that person that sent someone into a spiral, the way so many others had for her.

Yasha shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I want to.’ She took a deep breath. Beau squeezed her hand a little tighter, and Yasha squeezed back. ‘After my family died, Obann – he was...he claimed to be a humanitarian worker, but I did not see him ever do any of that. He had a big, fancy house that was a little bit like this one, only...colder.’ Beau recalled the reason why Yasha and Molly stayed in the garage rather than the rest of the house. ‘He…’ Yasha’s fist clenched, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem, only Beau’s hand was inside of it. Yasha was very strong, and Beau felt a stab of pain in her wrist. She squeezed back, and Yasha loosened her grip slightly.

She took a breath, and continued. ‘He made me do things that I did not want to do.’ Beau’s heart was in her throat.

‘He—’

‘Not like that,’ Yasha said. ‘He was not...he never hurt me in that, but he made me hurt other people. He would bring spies and dissidents to the house, and torture them for information. He called himself a humanitarian worker, but what he was really doing was selling intelligence. He would hurt them, and he would...he would make me hurt them. Some of them did not survive the process.’

Tears were streaming down her face, now, but she showed no signs of slowing down. Beau could relate to that. Sometimes you just had to get it all out.

‘Once a month or so, O—he would host very lavish parties, and have very important people from both side of the war come around – like to say that his power was so much that the war didn’t matter. He would dress me up, and parade me around as his little Orphanmaker, boasting to his guests that he had tamed a savage from the Xhorhasian swamps.’

It was Beau’s fist that clenched now. Gods. For Yasha to be so kind, so gentle, so loving, after everything that she had been through…it was a near miracle.

‘At the parties he would have music,’ Yasha told her. ‘But not just a record, or a CD or anything like that. He would bring in people from the Xhorhasian Symphony Orchestra. Very talented musicians. There was a harp player, that I would just watch, listening to the beautiful sounds, and trying to forget the things that he would have me do later.’ A shaky sort of smile crossed Yasha’s face. ‘It was just that little thing, of finding such beauty in among the darkness...that made me feel like everything was going to be okay.’

Beau didn’t have any words. She put her other hand on top of Yasha’s, and then gripped it tight, afraid that if she didn’t, Yasha might simply just float away, lost in a river of bad memories. ‘It is okay,’ Beau finally managed to choke out. ‘It _will_ be okay. You don’t have to go back to that. You have us.’ She had the vaguest memory of Jester saying very similar words to Beau after she had left her parents’ house, but that was nothing compared to what Yasha had just told her, to what Yasha had been through.

Yasha’s smile widened. ‘Thank-you, Beau,’ she said, through her tears. ‘It is good...well, I am glad that you know now, at least.’ She extricated her hand from Beau’s grip, and let it hang there loosely, occasionally rubbing against Beau’s thumb. ‘When I came to Nicodranas, and Ms Lavorre took Molly and I in, I told her the only thing in the world that I wanted was a harp, to try and recreate some of that beautiful music that made me feel so...safe.’

‘You could write about that,’ Beau said, before she could stop herself. It was the first thought that came into her head, and she cursed herself for doing something stupid.

Yasha’s brow furrowed. ‘What?’ she asked.

Well, she was already in it. Might as well get something good out of it. ‘Well, when they say that they want to hear about adversity, you don’t necessarily have to tell them...what you told me. You can maybe talk about the places where you find your strength. Like in music.’

Beau was half expecting Yasha to get angry. Then, she wondered if that was just her own bad experiences with running her mouth off when she shouldn’t have. Yasha wasn’t her father. Yasha wasn’t anything like her father. Yasha was...amazing.

Yasha’s voice was shaky. ‘That is a very good idea,’ she said. ‘I think...I think it would be a little bit easier to write about that.’ Without warning, she leaned her head down to rest on Beau’s shoulder. Given how much taller she was, it was a little awkward, but somehow felt exactly right. Yasha’s next words, when they came at first seemed a little non-sequitur. ‘You make me feel safe,’ she whispered, as though she didn’t quite want Beau to hear her.

Beau bowed her head, rather than let Yasha see the look on her face.


	16. XVI

XVI

Jester kept trying to catch Beau’s eye all evening.

Jester’s mother initiated conversation at the dinner table while they all ate a delicious, Bluud-prepared stew. The minotaur was a surprisingly competent cook; the meals that Beau had eaten at the house were much nicer than anything she’d eaten at home. Well...not home. This was home now.

Maybe it was something to do with the fact that there wasn’t an air of tension hanging over the dinner table. Something to do with the fact that she wasn’t eating her meal waiting for the other shoe to drop about something she had done, or hadn’t done.

The only tension in the air tonight was the way Jester mouthed “Did you kiss?” when they finally locked eyes. Beau shook her head, both as an answer and a reaction to the question. Jester pouted. “Why not?”

That wasn’t exactly a question that Beau could answer without miming and shrugs. Especially not now Beau noticed that both Molly _and_ Ms Lavorre had been paying attention to the silent conversation. Yasha, thank the gods, was obliviously attempting to spear a carrot with her fork.

“After dinner,” Beau mouthed back. She was at least expecting to be able to go to her room and have a bit of downtime first, but the moment her fork clattered against her plate, Jester grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged Beau upstairs to her own room. The bright pink of it all put Beau a little bit on edge.

‘So spill! Jester said. ‘Why didn’t you kiss? Are you playing hard to get?’

Beau couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to be playing hard to get with Yasha when they a) lived in the same house, and b) spent a great deal of time together. ‘It’s not that simple, Jes!’ The last two intimate conversations they’d had, hadn’t exactly been the right mood for expressing feelings of undying love. Not that there was any undying love. More just like...an undying desire to see what happened next.

‘You guys were out for _hours_. Did you like...kiss, and you just don’t want to tell me?’

‘No, we just talked about some stuff that maybe I didn’t want to be throwing kisses around after.’ Finally, Jester seemed to catch the tone of Beau’s voice, and realize exactly what it was that they had been talking about.

‘Oh,’ she said, finally. ‘But like...that’s a really good thing, you know? It took her so long to be able to tell me that. Like, over a year. She must really like you if she’s telling you now.’

Beau didn’t want to read into it. Her ability to be able to bead in on peoples’ feelings was something that had been warped and destroyed by her father and his unpredictability. What if she went to kiss Yasha, and Yasha laughed at her? Laughed at her presumptuousness.

No. Beau was very, very firmly going to leave the ball in Yasha’s court. If Yasha wanted to do something about it, Beau wasn’t exactly going to say no, but asking her to make the first move? That wasn’t going to happen.

For all the bravado that Beau put on, she was a big fucking coward. So much so that when she returned to her own bedroom, and found Yasha standing at the door, she seriously considered just going out the window.

‘Is everything okay?’ Yasha asked. To her credit, she really did sound concerned.

‘Uh...yeah,’ Beau said. ‘Just, you know. Jester.’ She gave Yasha a knowing sort of look. Yasha, however, still looked confused. Shit. Beau sighed. Well, at least if she said something, it would get it out of the way.

‘Jester...well, Jester assumes that something must have happened between us,’ Beau explained. ‘That...you know, because we spent the night in the same bed, and we went for a long walk on the beach, we’re somehow together now.’ She could feel her face glowing red as she spoke, but the worst (or was it the best?) part of it, was that Yasha didn’t seem entirely surprised.

‘I mean,’ she said, slowly. ‘Do you want to be?’

Beau was sure that she had misheard Yasha. Sure that Yasha had said something else entirely, something that meant that she wasn’t asking if Beau wanted to be in a relationship with her.

The honest answer was _fuck yes_ , but Beau didn’t want to be the person that was taking advantage of someone else’s fragile emotional state. Not to mention she was sure that Molly would absolutely murder her if she did. Probably the rest of the band, too, if she was honest. Though if she _was_ being honest, Beau knew that if she ever hurt Yasha, she would probably deserve whatever they did.

‘Do _you_ want to be?’ Beau asked, warily. She’d been the victim of this prank before. But Yasha didn’t really seem the type to be engaging in pranks. At least, not without Jester egging her on. Even this didn’t seem like Jester’s style. Molly’s, maybe.

‘I…’ Yasha hesitated. ‘Yes.’

‘Oh. Cool.’ Beau’s mind went blank. ‘Do you...um...do you want to kiss?’ Oh gods, _real smooth, Lionett._ She was still standing there like an idiot when Yasha leaned in and kissed her on the lips. It was another second after that before Beau realized what was going on, and started to kiss back.

When they pulled apart, Beau’s heart was pounding. ‘Wow,’ she breathed. ‘I—’

‘I knew it!’ Jester’s voice came from the end of the hallway, and half a second after that, she was running past them to the stairs. ‘Molly! Molly, they kissed! You owe me ten gold!’

_Fuck._

Beau hadn’t bothered to check whether Jester had been watching them from her doorway. Which meant that the cat was out of the bag. Ah well. It was better than trying to sneak around, hiding it.

Jester turned around, beaming. ‘I don’t know if he heard me,’ she said. ‘But you know, we can make sure we tell him in the morning.’

Beau raised an eyebrow. ‘We?’

Jester laughed. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I’ll just send him a Facebook message.’

‘That’s not—’ Beau looked to Yasha for some kind of assistance, but Yasha was filled with a look that Beau could only interpret as pride. It was like a switch had been flipped inside of Beau. If _Yasha_ wanted people to know, then Beau wasn’t going to be the asshole to make that not happen. ‘Sure,’ she said, resignedly. ‘Though maybe you could just let Yasha tell him? Given that they sleep in the same room?’

‘Oh.’ Jester looked suddenly disappointed. ‘Yeah, I mean, that could also work.’

‘Don’t worry Jester,’ Yasha said, smiling. ‘The first time we fuck, I will let you be the one to tell him.’ Jester put the words together before Beau did, and, giving a squeal of delight, ran back to her room. Beau opened her mouth, and closed it again.

Yasha winked, but it was a clumsy, slow wink that she tried to make as clear as possible. _Oh._ Beau wasn’t sure whether or not she was disappointed. Like, of course she wanted to fuck Yasha, but she also didn’t want to rush into things.

‘Can we, ah...do that again?’ Beau asked. ‘You know, just to make sure it’s as good as I remember?’

They kissed again, and this time there was nothing to interrupt them.

The next day, Beau went to school with a smile on her face. It was the first time in a while that had happened, and Beau tried not to let it get too wide when she went to knock on Dairon’s door first thing in the morning.

A few times, now, Dairon had called Beau to their office to check in on how she was doing. It wasn’t the funnest thing in the world, but Beau did appreciate that someone cared enough to check in on her. Enough that Beau raised an amused eyebrow when Dairon asked about Jester’s mother. This morning, though, there wasn’t a great deal that could bring down Beau’s mood. Not even having to work with Zeenoth in the afternoon.

‘How are things going?’ Dairon asked. ‘Marion says that you have been settling in well.’

Beau raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I the only thing you talk about?’

Dairon was unfazed. ‘It is good for me to make sure that your situation is improving, which includes having discussions with your guardian about things other than you, yes.’

‘Things like “oh, Marion, what are you wearing right now?”’ Beau had gone too far, and they both knew it. Dairon, thankfully, was not the sort of person to get too upset about that sort of thing. Disappointed, sure, but she wouldn’t start yelling, or anything, which is what Beau was used to. ‘Sorry,’ Beau said, in response to the flat stare. ‘That was inappropriate.’

Dairon gave a slight nod, and continued as though Beau had said nothing at all. ‘Your grades are holding steady, which is excellent to see. Zeenoth has made comments about your attitude, but begrudgingly agrees that you have been very helpful.’ Beau couldn’t help but smirk at that. That was the way it usually went. She could have found a dozen report cards with the phrase “very bright, but doesn’t pay attention.” ‘Now, I know you have already submitted several college applications, but given your...changed circumstances, I would also consider looking at your scholarship options.’ Right. There was that thing. Now that Dairon had brought it up, though…

‘Do you know if there are any options for like, refugees?’ Beau asked. Dairon raised a thin eyebrow. ‘Not for me, obviously, but my g—my friend...is working on college applications right now.’ She had almost said “girlfriend,” but they hadn’t exactly had that conversation yet. Not that Beau _really_ had any doubts. It was nice to have something like that, something so...tangible.

‘I can look into it,’ Dairon promised. They were smiling, now. Beau was pretty sure they’d picked up on the slip. ‘And for you, as well. I think you have a good chance.’

There was a strange feeling in Beau’s chest. ‘This is a weird question,’ she said. ‘But, ah...can I hug you?’

Beau managed to get off a very brief hug, during which Dairon stood very, very still. Beau was pretty sure they were uncomfortable with emotion, but this was more for her than it was for Dairon.

‘I’ll put in a good word for you,’ Beau said. ‘You know, with the Ruby of the Sea.’ Dairon rolled her eyes.

‘Go to class, Beauregard,’ they said.

It was a long day. Beau spent at least half of it thinking about the kiss of the previous night, to the point where, at four o’clock, Zeenoth sent her home. ‘If you’re so distracted that you keep putting the books about Illithids in with the books on Illusory magic, then come back tomorrow.’

Beau didn’t hesitate to obey. She practically ran home, taking a wide berth around her old house, and came in through the side door.

Yasha was in the garage. She was alone. ‘Molly decided to go and hang out with Caleb,’ she said, in a deadpan sort of voice that told Beau with near certainty that Yasha had told him to fuck off so she could spend time with Beau.

They said hello with a kiss, and Beau felt that unfamiliar warmth rising in her chest.

‘I have a question to ask you,’ Yasha said. ‘It is a very important question, but ah...do not feel as though you have to say yes. Would you—’

‘Yes,’ Beau said, before she even realized she was doing it. Shit. Way to not be too eager, Lionett.

‘You will help me write a song for my college application?’

‘I...oh.’ Beau felt like an idiot. ‘I mean, yeah, of course.’

Yasha was not fooled. ‘What did you think I was going to ask?’

Now, Beau felt stupid. Maybe it was just the fact that the kiss had been on her mind. ‘I thought you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend.’

There was a long pause. ‘I did not realize that was a question that had to be asked,’ she said. ‘I assumed it was already the case.’

A wave of relief washed through Beau. ‘Okay, good. We’re dating. That’s great.’ She smiled, widely, and Yasha matched it, even though there was still a slight furrow of confusion in her brow.

‘And you will help me write a song?’ Another pause. ‘And perhaps also be in the song?’

‘I mean, I wouldn’t want to drown out your voice or anything.’ Beau was flattered by the question, by even the idea that she might be good enough to accompany Yasha on a song that was ostensibly meant to showcase the best of Yasha’s abilities.

‘You could never.’ Yasha’s voice was resolute. ‘You…’ She paused for a moment. Considered her words. ‘You make me feel more like myself. Safer.’

In that moment, Beau realized; it wasn’t about the song at all. It was about Yasha, and that made all the difference. ‘If that’s what you want,’ Beau said. ‘I’ll do it. Whatever you want to do, Yasha.’

Yasha raised an eyebrow. ‘There are many things that I would like to do,’ she said, in a voice that was salacious enough that Beau knew exactly what she was talking about. They hadn’t done much beyond mere kissing just yet. Beau was perfectly happy to take it slow, because she assumed that that was what Yasha wanted. She couldn’t deny that she had maybe gotten herself off once or twice the previous night while thinking about the possibilities.

But that was neither here nor there. Beau felt herself starting to thrum with creative energy. She loved the unexpected synergy that they had found between the drums and the harp. Though, now that Beau thought about it, maybe part of that was because they were sort of in sync themselves. Beau had never really had that kind of synchronicity with anyone.

‘Alright,’ she said. ‘How do we want to do this?’


	17. XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, kind of fell off the face of the earth for a bit there. Back to your semi-regularly scheduled updates, hopefully.

XVII

Writing a song was...well, harder than it looked.

Admittedly, Yasha did most of the work. She had an unnervingly beautiful way of playing from the soul that Beau found simultaneously magnetic and...well, a little intimidating. Her music wasn’t exactly the sort of music that people called “beautiful.”

“Cool,” sometimes, sure, and maybe even “catchy,” but banging on things with sticks wasn’t inherently something that people tended to think of as beautiful. At least not the way Beau played it. She had heard some drummer – professional drummers – that had a beauty, a fluidity in the way that they played, but she was someone that still accidentally hit herself in the face with her sticks every now and then.

That Yasha considered them to be even on the same level was absurd.

Mostly, Beau listened to Yasha play. Closing her eyes, and leaning back into the ridiculous number of pillows and cushions that covered Molly’s bed, and listening to Yasha pluck her way through a melody was one of the most relaxing, comforting thing that she had ever felt.

‘Is there a story to it?’ Beau asked, one lazy afternoon. At Yasha’s request, she had been supplying a steady backbeat, as Yasha seemed to reach a crescendo in the ever-evolving song. It started bright, and became sad, before moving into notes of hopefulness.

‘I...it is the story of my life,’ Yasha said, after a very long silence. ‘Rather than write what happened to me, I wanted to portray it through music.’ Another long pause. ‘There is a part I am struggling with.’ Beau could guess what part. Pouring your emotions into music was no easy thing, especially the kinds of emotions that Yasha was dealing with.

‘Yeah?’

‘Mmm...It is...difficult to explain.’ Yasha’s voice was very quiet. ‘I want to show that I am happy, but sad at the same time as well?’

Beau could definitely relate to that. The feelings for her probably weren’t as troubling and confusing as they were for Yasha, but they were there. Happy that she had gotten out of a shitty situation, and sad that she couldn’t see her brother. Happy that she had people in her life that cared, but maybe sad that it had taken her so long to find them.

‘How do you feel?’

The question startled Beau more than a little. They’d been moving through things at an interesting sort of pace, but really, not a huge amount had changed. They still went for morning runs, only this time there was also kissing involved (Beau was half-terrified that Tori would show up again, so they went a different route every morning so as not to be predictable).

A couple of times, Molly had been gracious enough to get Jester out of the house so that Beau and Yasha could...well, yeah. It had, like Beau assumed most first times were supposed to be, been quick, and a little awkward. Half their time had been spent figuring out what the other liked, and what felt good.

Beau was pretty sure Yasha wasn’t talking about _that_. ‘Like, right now?’

‘I mean...when you play music, how do you feel?’

It was a weird question. Or at least, a question without a straight-forward answer.

When Beau had first joined marching band, the thing she had felt most was resentment. Her father had insisted that she play an instrument, because it looked good on college applications. She was pretty sure he would have preferred the violin, or the piano – something classical and respectable – it was spite, more than anything, that had led Beau in the other direction.

It wasn’t until she watched a bunch of videos on YouTube that she realized what she could do with the boring, repetitive rudiments and paradiddles that they learned. It had taken every ounce of begging, pleading and promising that Beau had to have her parents let her get a drum-kit. It was a gesture that they regretted almost immediately, even with the muffling pads.

Beau liked the fact that she could channel her energy into something that sounded...well, sounded pretty fucking cool. She liked that she didn’t need to remember notes, and could just hammer away at a beat and eventually get somewhere interesting.

Moreover, she liked the fact that in Nicodranas you could chuck a rock and hit a guitarist, but drummers were much more rare.

And, okay, maybe she really did sort of like the fact that she could carry around a pair of drumsticks and have people immediately clock that she played the drums. She absolutely hadn’t done that to try and pick up chicks down by the pier once or twice or five times before.

Tori had found it pretty hot, at the very least, but in hindsight, that may not have been the best outcome. Beau was still half-waiting for the other shoe to drop in that regard; either Tori was biding her time, waiting, or she had just sort of given up. Beau was hoping for the latter, but hedging her bets on the former. Assuming that Tori had been the one responsible for dobbing Beau into her father, it was unclear what else the other girl could do. Be a pain in the ass, for one thing. Weirdly, even the thought of Tori was enough to send Beau into a bit of a tailspin. Maybe that’s what Tori had been counting on. Being just present enough to be annoying, but never actually doing anything.

But, Beau had other things to worry about.

On top of everything else, she had started working a couple of shifts a week at the same grocery store as Yasha and Molly, stocking shelves. It was surprisingly hard work, and Beau knew that if she was out of shape, and hadn’t spent the last few years helping move around barrels of wine, and pick grapes, and all those other things, it would have been a lot harder.

In any case, it was nice to have a little bit of money coming in. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. Enough to be paying Marion the board that she didn’t ask for, and contributing to the grocery bill.

It did often mean that Beau was up until well after midnight, finishing off her homework. That, in conjunction with two kinds of band practice, judo, and helping out Zeenoth in the library meant that Beau rarely had a free moment, but somehow, it was still easier to deal with than it had been when she was living at h—living at her parents place.

Beau’s father, at least, had maintained radio silence. He seemed happy to be rid of her. She’d gotten a couple of perfunctory text messages from her mother, who clearly wanted to check in on things, but didn’t want to be caught doing it. Beau wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She gave short answers, and didn’t ask about T.J., even though she desperately wanted to. It was painful enough already.

Once she graduated, things would be...different. Dairon had, true to their promise, found some scholarship programs that Beau could apply for.

Even though she knew that it wasn’t the main factor involved, Beau thought about what her friends were doing. It had been hard enough to make _these_ friends in the first place. She didn’t even want to think about how hard it would be to move to a new city and make _more_.

Then there was Yasha.

Beau didn’t think that she’d ever been happier than when she was spending time with Yasha, playing music, or walking along the beach, or eating leftover Xhorhasian food while sitting cross-legged on Beau’s bed while she did her homework.

It was a strange sort of peace that she was never sure she’d felt before, and Beau didn’t want to lose it.

There was a thought in the back of her head, like, maybe if she helped Yasha with her college applications, then they’d be able to go to the same school, or something ridiculous like that. She wasn’t sure if Yasha had any interest in going to Zadash, or Rexxentrum, but even the faint glimmer of possibility was enough to keep Beau going through those busy nights.

Lying in the garage while Yasha played the harp was a special kind of freeing. Beau knew that whatever Yasha wrote, whatever she played would be amazing, simply by virtue of the fact that it was Yasha playing it.

They spent three more days on it, before showing anyone else. Yasha was not interested in performing it for anyone else, but the thing about sending in a song for your college application meant that you had to record it.

The entire time Beau had been with the band, she had heard vague rumblings of the idea of putting together a demo track, something that they could give to bars and clubs that might be interested in hiring them for a gig.

It had never gone anywhere, but, true to form, Caleb seemed to have connections in the industry. He managed to get them a slot late on a Whelsen afternoon, which meant that Beau had to skip her final lesson of the day, and her library duties in order to make it.

She told Dairon what was going on, of course, knowing that if there was a mark on her record, it would affect her ability to graduate. Beau couldn’t fuck that up now, not now that she only had mere months left before she was done.

Dairon was surprisingly understanding. ‘I will make sure that Zeenoth knows that you will be absent today,’ they said. They looked down at the papers in front of them. ‘You seem to be, on the whole, up to date with your history homework. I’m sure that Mr. Tubo will not mind if you miss one lesson.’ Beau wasn’t entirely sure about that. She had gotten her fair share of detentions from Mr. Tubo. ‘Normally, you would of course require the permission of a parent or guardian to be leaving early…’ She trailed off slightly.

Beau’s lip twitched. ‘I mean, I’m sure if you called Jester’s mother, she’d say it was fine.’

Beau was sure that Dairon suppressed a minor roll of the eyes. ‘I will do that,’ she said. ‘If only to shut you up.’

‘Oh Dairon, we both know that’s never gonna happen.’ Beau grinned, and bid the elf farewell.

When she arrived in history class, Mr. Tubo narrowed his eyes at the slip of paper that said Beau had the permission of a school guidance councilor to leave early, but didn’t call Beau out on it.

She waited at the school gates for less than five minutes before Caleb rolled up in his old car. Yasha was in the front seat (on account of her height), and Jester and Molly were in the back seat.

‘Do I want to know why the infernal brigade are coming too?’ she asked. Caleb had the good grace to look mildly abashed.

‘Well, I came to pick Yasha up, and Molly announced that he was coming as well, and when Jester found out, she said that she did not want to spend the night alone, so she would come as well.’

It made sense, but that didn’t meant that Beau was necessarily pleased about it. She could tell that Yasha was nervous about the fact that there were two additional people here that would be listening to her pour out her heart and soul.

Frustrated, Beau squeezed into the back seat between Molly and Jester, neither of whom seemed to think it necessary to move over. It was a cramped and awkward ride to the studio, with the tieflings making most of the conversation.

By the time they made it to the recording studio, Beau was glad to get out of the car, and stretch her legs. She pulled Yasha off to the side, and squeezed her hand. ‘You’re gonna be great,’ she said. Yasha wasn’t convinced, the look in her eyes faraway as she took her harp from the trunk of Caleb’s car.

Whatever else happened, Beau knew that Yasha was going to nail this.


	18. XVIII

XVIII

Inside the recording studio was pretty cool.

There were framed pictures over the wall of all the different people that had recorded here. Some Beau recognized, and most she didn’t. Nicodranas was a cosmopolitan sort of city, but it wasn’t peoples’ first thought when discussing glitz and glamour. 

Still, given that six months ago, Beau had barely even been sure she’d make it through the year, let alone do something like this, it was pretty amazing. Even more amazing to be doing it with friends at her side. Not just people that pretended to be her friend so they could cheat off her homework, or begrudgingly tolerated her presence at school band mixers, or were nice to her face, but laughed at her behind her back and called her a dyke.

So this was way more than Beau ever could have hoped for.

Caleb’s friend was a little older than all of them, but not by much. Essek was a tall drow, and he held a hand up against the sunlight as he ushered them into the studio. The windows were all covered with blackout paper, giving the weird feeling like they were walking through an underground tunnel.

‘I could only get a one hour slot,’ Essek was telling them. ‘If it is not a long song, then you could use the first bit of it to practice.’

They had admittedly spent a lot of the last few weeks practicing, but getting used to the equipment wouldn’t be a bad idea. Beau turned back to Yasha, to ask how she wanted to do it, and found Yasha about six feet back, walking very slowly.

She looked nervous. She was clutching her harp tightly, as though someone might try to snatch it away from her. Beau slowed a little so that they were walking in step, and gave Yasha what she hoped was a comforting sort of smile. ‘You alright?’

Yasha gave a helpless sort of shrug, and took the hand that Beau offered her, squeezing it. ‘There are a lot of people here,’ she said.

They had both played in front of more people than this before, but Beau supposed that the added pressure of needing to get it right, of having a limit in which to get it done did not help matters much.

‘They’re all friends,’ Beau assured her. ‘They’ve all seen you play before.’ Technically, Essek hadn’t, but Beau hoped that the presence of Molly and Jester and Caleb would outweigh that. Molly and Jester, at least had definitely been a boon in Yasha’s life, had helped her through some of the dark times.

‘You’re right.’ Yasha nodded, as though steeling her resolve. She gave a shaky smile. ‘Okay. I think I am ready to do this.’

Yasha hadn’t brought any music with her. From what Beau had seen, she rarely did play with music. Even when she was creating the song, she didn’t seem to write any of it down. It all came from her head, or, probably more accurately, her heart.  Beau, on the other hand, had a stack of messily hand-written music, not because she needed to remember it, necessarily, but because it helped keep her focused. As long as she was looking at the music, then her eyes weren’t wandering.

Today, more than any other day, she didn’t want to make any mistakes.

The recording room was smaller than Beau had expected, with the same dark walls and papered over windows as the rest of it. A well-kept drum kit was sitting in the corner.

Essek had recommended that their parts be recorded separately. It made it easier to fix up any mistakes, and definitely made the overall sound a little cleaner. Yasha had declined.

She wanted Beau in there with her.

That fact made Beau feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy about their relationship, the kind of feeling that she’d never really gotten before. It was still new and exciting.

But, it did mean that they were together in the tiny recording room, with the drum-kit in one corner, and a chair for Yasha in the other.

The kit was a little different of a set-up than what Beau was used to. She had decided against attempting to bring the kit from Jester’s garage to try and record. For one thing, the kit was fucking enormous, and it would have definitely taken a second vehicle to bring it. For another, it took a long time to set up; longer than the time they actually had to record the song. It was easier, then, to use that time to get the feel for this new, unfamiliar kit.

The spacing was slightly different than  Jester’s kit , and the sound of the cymbals was a little deeper, but it was a very nice kit. The sort of kit that professional musicians used. She could have spent hours playing on this kit, but they only had another forty-nine minutes,  once the microphones had been set up properly.

Beau had the easy job. It was a pretty simple beat, with very few fills. She still wasn’t sure why Yasha had wanted her to be on the track. It would have been much nicer with just the harp.  But, she wasn’t going to say no. Not if that was what Yasha wanted.

A moment later, the recording light was on. Beau gave Yasha a nod, and started to count them in. There were a couple of bars of soft  snare, hi-hat and bass before the harp came in. Some very simple eighth-note groove sort of stuff.

After the second bar, Beau was ready for that first pluck of the harp, but it didn’t come. Beau lifted her head to look over at Yasha, who was almost frozen in fear. Then, as though a switch had been flipped, she seemed to come alight, and came in at the start of the fourth bar.

Beau relaxed slightly. She was thrown for a loop, then, when half-way through the song, Yasha stood up, and walked out, the recording light still blinking.

Beau looked up, and saw several shocked faces staring from the window to where Essek was recording from.

‘I got it,’ Beau said, tossing her sticks onto the drum throne. The only other person she thought might have had any chance at talking Yasha down was Mollymauk, and even then, this seem like a more...intimate sort of conversation.

Beau was sure, for instance, that Molly must have known about Yasha’s childhood, about the reasons why she was writing the song. Must have known exactly what it was that Yasha had been through.

He gave her a tiny nod, though, as she went after Yasha. Beau nodded back.

Yasha was halfway down the hall, breathing heavily. Even from this distance, Beau could tell that her eyes were wet with tears. She made her footsteps as loud as possible, so that she didn’t scare Yasha.

‘Hey.’ Beau put a hand on Yasha’s shoulder. ‘I know it’s getting a bit much in there. Take your time, okay?’ They still had forty minutes. There was still time to get the song recorded.

‘Thank-you, Beau.’ Yasha’s eyes were cast downwards. ‘I...I was not expecting to be so overwhelmed by emotion. I have been working on this song for so long now, longer even than I think I knew...To finally be reaching a point where I am recording it for other people to hear? It is a lot.’

Beau definitely got that. You could practice something a thousand times, but when it came to doing it for real, the fear took over. It had happened to her during Judo gradings, and during recitals, during basketball games. There was just something about baring your mind, body and soul to other people that was utterly terrifying. ‘What if it was just me?’ she said. Yasha furrowed her brow, and Beau took it as a sign to keep going. ‘Can you play by feel? If you close your eyes, and all you can hear is me on the drums, then it’ll be just like we’re in Jester’s garage. No Jester, no Molly, no Caleb. Just us.’ The others would be there, of course, but if Yasha couldn’t see them, then it would be like they were alone.

With very little warning, Yasha pulled Beau into a hug. ‘Thank-you.’ A pause. ‘I know you were still not sure about doing this, that you only did it because I asked you to…This song is my story, and I wanted you to be apart of it because you are part of my story.’

The cynical part of Beau might have asked why, in that case, Molly wasn’t part of the song. He was just as much of, if not more part of Yasha’s story than Beau was. But the sentimental side of Beau was far too touched by the gesture and what it meant to even think of bringing the moment down.

Beau rubbed a comforting hand across Yasha’s back. ‘Thank-you for saying that,’ she said. Regardless of whether or not Yasha meant it, Beau felt a surge of warmth through her whole body. ‘Let me know when you’re ready to go back.’

They stayed out there a couple more minutes before once more returning to the soundproofed room. Molly gave Beau a thumbs up, and she resisted the urge to respond with a middle finger.  Not out of malice, just for fun.

Yasha settled back in behind the harp, and closed her eyes. ‘I am ready,’ she said. Beau gave a nod to Essek on the other side of the window, and began tapping her stick against the rim of the snare drum, counting them in.

This time, Yasha was perfect.

Of course, to Beau, Yasha was always perfect. Her hands moved across the harp like it was made of water, plucking each string with as much ease as if she was flipping through the newspaper. Not being able to see the strings was of little concern, the instrument was already an extension of every fiber of Yasha’s being. When she played, it was not simply a person sitting down playing a harp, it was a lightning-struck reflection of every atom of Yasha’s being. Beau could have closed her own eyes, and been able to pick Yasha from a line-up of a hundred other harpists, just from the sheer passion with which she played.

It was fucking beautiful.

By the end of it, Beau was silently crying, making sure not to let even a sob escape so as not to ruin the recording. 

They did a couple more takes, just in case, but Beau knew that it didn’t matter. That first – or rather the second – recording was like lightning in a bottle. They could play a hundred more times, and never quite capture the perfection of that moment.

The moment the last one was done, Beau threw down her sticks, and immediately embraced Yasha. ‘That was so good. You were so good.’

On the way home, they got ice-cream.

Molly called shotgun before any of them could say anything, leaving Beau, Yasha and Jester to squeeze up in the back seat. This time, Beau didn’t really mind. She took the middle seat again, but spent half the trip leaned up against Yasha’s shoulder anyway. Any time she so much as looked in Jester’s direction, the tiefling wiggled her eyebrows and made suggestive nods.

Beau got a scoop of cookies and cream, and a scoop of peanut butter and chocolate, and then a couple of tastes of Yasha’s caramel praline. Jester got some concoction that looked like a tiny scoop of literally every ice-cream the shop sold, and after a moment’s consideration, Molly asked for one too. Caleb got vanilla.

Still, they tipped well, and thus didn’t get glared out of the shop, instead finding a booth in the back, and whiling away the afternoon. At one point, someone messaged Fjord, Caduceus and Veth, and it turned into a full on gang hang.

It was one of the best nights that Beau had had in a long time.

She should have guessed that it wasn’t going to last.


	19. XIX

XIX

It was a nice night, and Beau didn’t particularly want to spent it shoved into the back seat, so when Yasha suggested that the two of them walk home, Beau jumped at the opportunity.

She ignored the kissy faces that Jester shot at her, and the mildly chastising response from Fjord. It wasn’t like they were going to sneak into the bushes and fuck, or anything. They were just walking.

And maybe there was a little bit of handholding. Very G-rated. Nothing that would get them kicked out of a movie theater. Okay, maybe there was a little bit of kissing as well.

‘Thank-you for helping me clear my head today,’ Yasha said. They’d stopped to sit on one of the benches not far from the Opal Archways. The night sky above was dotted with stars, and they had been sitting there just watching them. It was nice.

‘I mean, I didn’t really do much.’ Beau shrugged. ‘All the important stuff; the music, and the passion and all of that. That was you.’

Yasha smiled, but Beau could tell that she didn’t quite believe it. Beau put a hand on top of hers. ‘Seriously, Yasha. When you send that song in, colleges are gonna be fucking competing to see who gets to take you.’ The smile widened. That, at least, was definitely true. She also kind of maybe hoped that some of the places that Yasha applied to would be the same ones Beau was applying to. For altruistic reasons only, of course.

Sadly, she knew that the band would probably have to...well, disband. With her, and maybe Yasha and potentially Caleb leaving Nicodranas (Caleb had talked about getting offers from a very fancy academy in Rexxentrum), and with the others doing Ioun only knew what, it didn’t really seem like something that would be able to continue. Beau didn’t know enough about technology to know whether or not that was something that they could do over the internet. Caleb would probably have an idea.

So for now, she was happy to appreciate it while it lasted. That when she left, it would be because of a conscious decision that she had made about doing something with her life, rather than because the people that she was hanging out with decided that they were sick of her.

It was a new and exciting feeling.

Yasha, at the very least, seemed to be enjoying Beau’s company. Didn’t seem like she was hanging out with Beau out of pity, rather than a desire to be here.  Her eyes were fixed up at that same starry night sky. A sudden wave of curiosity washed over Beau. ‘Did you get nights like this in Xhorhas?’

The smile that had until this point been subtle widened. ‘There were many, many more stars in Xhorhas,’ Yasha told her. ‘The place where I...well, where I grew up was a long way from any cities, so there was no light pollution, and there were no tall buildings, so you could see for miles around. One of my favorite things to do was to go out far from our village, and watch the sky. It was the thing that I liked about the Moorlands the most.’ Yasha fell silent then, and Beau didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what she was thinking about. This all must have been before her family had been killed, before she had been taken away to live with a cruel, uncaring man. Beau hoped that maybe they’d be able to build better memories together. Memories at least better than the ones that she had with Tori.

Tori had only hung around for the sex, and the fact that Beau had an in at a place that had things to steal.  Or maybe Beau was just conflating things. Like some kind of reverse nostalgia.

At first, Beau thought she must have been hallucinating. That because she’d been thinking about Tori, her mind was playing tricks on her. Then, she felt Yasha stiffen on the bench beside her, and she realized that it definitely wasn’t a hallucination.

Beau stood, her fist clenched, and Yasha was only a second or so behind her. ‘Do you really have to keep following me?’ Beau demanded. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’

‘On the contrary, this is exactly what I want to be doing.’ Tori’s voice was softer than Beau would have expected, which was kind of weird. They had both always been that brash, loud couple that other people found obnoxious. Completely different to how Yasha was. A quiet Tori was...well, it was a little scary. The hair was starting to raise on the back of Beau’s neck, and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

Then, o ut of the corner of her eye, Beau saw the silver glint of a blade. She had spent enough time hanging out with Tori to know that Tori didn’t go anywhere...well, un-armed. It had bee n a point of, if not contention, then at the very least tension between them.  Not that it had ever been used for anything except to look cool. It probably wasn’t even sharp, but then a blunt knife was still a knife.  Automatically, Beau put a hand across Yasha’s chest. Yasha, startled, clearly hadn’t seen the knife until Tori brought it into full view. 

‘Tori,’ Beau said evenly. Though her hand wasn’t quite touching Yasha’s chest, she could have sworn she heard the other girl’s heart beating. 

‘Wish you would have defended me this enthusiastically.’ Tori’s voice was calm, and Beau knew enough to know that that was a very bad thing. It meant that she wasn’t scared, that she had conviction behind what she was doing. Meant that she probably wasn’t going to panic and run at the first sign of resistance. 

Just another reason why they were kinda terrible together. Two stubborn people made for a very unyielding relationship. 

Not that Yasha was a pushover or anything. In fact, Yasha was the opposite of a pushover. But she knew when to say “no.”

‘What do you want?’ Yasha asked. Tori’s eyes jumped across, even as she sneered.

‘What the fuck do you think I want?’ Beau honestly had no clue. Revenge? The consequences clearly hadn’t been all that bad for Tori if she wasn’t in jail right now. But…well, there was no question as to who had come out of the situation better. Beau had a new girlfriend, and a new group of friends, and a new family that maybe even loved her. 

So it made sense that Tori might feel a little resentful. Especially if she was still facing the legal consequences that Beau had managed to escape.

They were better off without each other. Beau knew it, and Tori really should have known it. Sometimes things that really shouldn’t work together somehow did, like some kind of syncopation. There was no syncopation between Beau and Tori. The metaphorical music they made together was like a bunch of screeching cats that had just set fire to a gas station.

So if Tori was here to prove a point, well, Beau was long past that. If Tori was here to just cause problems, then  _that_ was a problem.

A problem that Beau knew she would have to deal with, and deal with in such a way that it wouldn’t happen again. This wasn’t fair on Yasha, for one thing. After everything that Yasha had been through, to keep having her life disrupted by a shitkicker like Tori – definitely not cool.

Takedowns were just another one of those things that Beau had practiced a hundred or so times. Never against an armed opponent, though. Something one of her instructors had said came back to her in that moment; that the loser of a knife fight died in the streets, but the winner died in hospital. Beau was pretty sure that was for when both people had knives, but she still knew just how bad a knife wound could be.

She moved quickly. Quick enough that Tori couldn’t dodge even if she wanted to; Beau had always been pretty fast. She sort of tackled Tori to the ground, and tried to move her hands down so that she could wrench the knife out of the other girl’s grip.

It was messy. It was messy, and chaotic, and Beau was sure she would have been DQed in any real match, but eventually the knife scattered away, and Beau pulled back, everything sort of pounding.

Before she could even think, Tori was diving at her, but instead of getting tackled to the ground, Yasha was there. A wall against all the bad things in the world. ‘You need to leave,’ Yasha said. Her voice sounded like it was shaking with anger, and Beau didn’t exactly blame her. ‘You aren’t going to get the closure you want. If you bother us again, I will kill you.’

It took Beau a couple of seconds to realize that Yasha wasn’t joking. Beau had heard the story of what had happened to Yasha in Xhorhas, but she had never truly seen the other girl in a state of such fury. Not a burning fury, but a cold, directed fury that was honestly a little scary.

Tori made to move forward again, and in a split second, Yasha’s fist had connected with her face. There was a sickening  _crunch_ that Beau had to admit was pretty satisfying when it wasn’t her on the other end of the fist.

Tori fled.

Without her weapon, she clearly didn’t want to take on Yasha, who was almost a foot taller than her. Whatever plans she might have had…

‘That was pretty hot,’ Beau said, her voice slurring a little. Hmmm…Why were things suddenly feeling so fuzzy? Had there always been that weird pain in her gut?

Beau stared down at her hand. It was covered in blood. Weird. Yasha’s punch didn’t seem like it had been that hard. But, Beau knew as well as anyone that a punch didn’t have to be hard to do a lot of damage, depending on where you were punching them. But then, Beau had been several feet back when that happened. The only reason she’d be bleeding was...

It took her a few seconds. ‘Hey Yash,’ she murmured. Hmm. Yash. She’d never called Yasha that before. It felt nice on her tongue. Yasha had been looking up, making sure that Tori wasn’t about to come back. At the sound of her name, though, she looked back down to Beau. Her eyes went from watchful, to concerned in the space of a split second.

‘You’re bleeding.’

‘What?’ No, that wasn’t her blood. That was Tori’s...Beau looked down again, seeing that her shirt was wet. A dull, throbbing pain grew sharper and stronger every second that they stood there.

The realization hit her at about the same time the blinding agony did. Her knees buckled, and Yasha just about managed to catch her before she fell, lowering her to the ground gently.  This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. They were supposed to walk home uneventfully, and maybe fall into bed and cuddle. 

So much shit had happened, and now  _this_ ? Beau was not a fan. It had been such a good day so far, too.

She reached up a hand to brush Yasha’s cheek. ‘You played really well today,’ she said. When she pulled her hand back, Yasha’s cheek was bloody.

Yasha was saying something, but the words weren’t quite coming through. It was a bright night, thanks to the moon, but for some reason, the darkness was pressing in.

If she was going to die, then at the very least, Beau was pretty sure she had managed at least one good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ........sorry


	20. XX

XX

Time seemed to stand still for a little bit. Or, it seemed to be standing still and stretching out all at once, and it wasn’t until Beau was stretched out in the back of an ambulance with Yasha clutching her hand that she realized what was going on.

Oh. Huh.

‘Yash?’ Beau wasn’t sure what question she was asking, but she even begin to try and hide the fear in her voice.

‘You’re going to be okay,’ Yasha said. Beau couldn’t tell whether Yasha was talking to her, or talking to herself, trying to convince herself that Beau _would_ actually be okay. ‘It’s not too deep, but you have lost some blood.’

Beau frowned. Her mind was slow, and sluggish, and she couldn’t work out why that was a bad thing. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Do you think they’ll find it?’ Yasha gave a strained chuckle. 

‘You’re going to be okay,’ Yasha said again, more firmly this time. That was the last thing Beau heard before she closed her eyes again.

Beau wasn’t sure if she dreamed or not. She figured she wasn’t asleep, or anything, but in any case, it was dark for a little while. When she woke up, though, she was absolutely certain she was dreaming, because the person sitting at her bedside (hospital bed?) was the last person she would have expected.

She would have expected Yasha, or, failing Yasha, at the very least Molly or Jester. She was not expecting to see her mother sitting there, after weeks of near minimal contact.

‘What are you doing here?’ Beau said. At least, that was what she’d wanted to say. What it came out as, though, was “whadohere,” which wasn’t exactly coherent, but was at least enough to jerk her mother from her reverie.

‘Beauregard,’ she said. Her face was pale in shock, and if Beau wasn’t mistaken, maybe a little bit of fear. ‘The hospital called me. I...your friends are in the hallway. I wasn’t…’ The fear seemed to rise up again, and Beau had the sudden realization that her mother had never intended for Beau to know that she had come. Beau wasn’t sure how she felt about that. If there was one thing that Clara Lionett had never been, it was brave.

Gritting her teeth, Beau sat up, and attempted to pull herself back against her headboard. It was harder than she would have guessed, mostly because her entire lower body still seemed numb.

‘Be careful.’ Clara held out a hand, and out of instinct, Beau tried to dodge it. Not that her mother had ever laid a hand on her. Far too passive for that. ‘You’ve got fresh stitches.’

‘I’m fine,’ Beau grumbled. ‘Does dad know I’m here?’ Beau wasn’t sure which option she preferred. If her father did know, and simply decided not to come, or if he didn’t, because her mother hadn’t told him.

‘No.’ Relief washed over Beau, as she realized her answer to that question. She really, really didn’t want him to know, because she could only imagine his response would be some variety of “I told you so.”

‘Please don’t tell him.’ Clara nodded slightly. There was a long pause. ‘How’s TJ?’

‘He’s good. He’s fine. He misses you.’ Beau clenched her fist. She could tell that her mother wasn’t _trying_ to guilt-trip her, but still… ‘I didn’t want to bring him, in case…’

Yeah. In case Beau had died. Awesome. Definitely wouldn’t want the kid to see that.

Clara cleared her throat. ‘You seem to be doing well. Apart from…’ She trailed off. Didn’t really need to say it. But then, that had nothing to do with the life she’d built for herself. If anything, it was because of the life that she’d left behind.

‘Yeah,’ Beau said. ‘Yeah, I am…Much better than…you know.’ They both knew. Of course they did. It had never been a secret between them, how much Beau would have thrived out from beneath the stifling rules and expectations. How much better she would do forging her own path. Unconsciously, her eyes shot towards the door.

Beau’s mother was not stupid. She stood, clutching her purse to her stomach. ‘It was good to see you, Beauregard.’ She hesitated, as though she had planned to go in for a kiss, but instead put an awkward hand on Beau’s shoulder. ‘I will...well, I will keep sending messages, if you’d like.’

‘Sure,’ Beau said. There was an awkward moment where neither of them seemed sure what to say. Finally, Beau’s mother gave a very stilted wave before making her departure. Not fifteen seconds later, Jester and Yasha had come in.

Yasha wasted no time in rushing to Beau’s side, and holding her hand. ‘How are you feeling?’

In all honesty...not that bad. A little numb, but judging by the IV in her arm, that was probably to be expected. Beau lifted up her hospital gown, realizing too late that she was apparently not wearing any underwear. Awesome. But, there was a large white dressing that covered the lower part of her abdomen. She touched it experimentally, and didn’t really feel much. ‘Damn. Am I gonna have a cool scar?’

‘Probably.’ Yasha’s voice sounded a little weary. ‘I think the doctor said twenty-eight stitches? So not too bad. But bad enough.’

Sure, sure. The fact that she’d had to come here by ambulance should have been an indicator of that. ‘And, uh…’

‘The police are still looking for Tori,’ Jester told Beau, apparently sensing the question that she wanted to ask. Beau didn’t think it would take them too long. For all that Tori had a lot of shady contacts around town, she also wasn’t very good at keeping her nose out of things. The brand new scar on Beau’s stomach was evidence of that.

‘What time is it?’ Beau asked. She felt exhausted, like she’d been awake for twenty hours, but there was sun streaming in through the window, so it was at least the next day, if not a little later.

Jester checked her watch. ‘ Almost  two ,’ she said. ‘Momma called Dairon and said you weren’t going to be at school.’ There was an amused sort of smile playing on her face, and Beau maybe got the impression that there was a little more to it that Jester would tell her later.

‘Awesome. So when can I get out of here?’

A little after that, a doctor came in to talk to Beau. He was a short, dwarven man with a truly magnificent beard that was braided in three parts. The knife had somehow managed to miss anything particularly vital. It made sense, given that it had been the result of a flailing of limbs, rather than a directed attack.

Even still, they wanted to keep her for at least another night, just to make sure she didn’t die horribly, or something. Beau would have vastly preferred to just go home – to Jester’s house – and rest in her own fucking bed.

Hospitals were weird and uncomfortable and had stupid things like visiting hours. What Beau really wanted was to just have Yasha climb into bed with her and hold her. Not even doing anything fun, just to have that strong, reassuring presence of someone she loved. It took Beau far too long to realize that she’d used the “L” word, even if it was just inside her head. Once upon a time that would have scared her, but now…She squeezed Yasha’s hand tightly, and Yasha squeezed back. The rest of them, even as worried as they had been, left in order to give Beau and Yasha some space.

Molly gave her a light pat on the shoulder, and Fjord squeezed her arm, and even Veth kissed her on the cheek. It was weirdly heartwarming, how every single time something happened, all of her friends just seemed to rally around her. When she compared that to her mother, sitting at her bedside awkwardly out of some sort of duty, and then leaving immediately...well, there wasn’t really anything to compare.

‘I was so worried,’ Yasha said, after everyone else had left. They were resting sort of oddly, with Yasha’s chair pulled as close to the bed as she could manage, and Beau leaning down into her shoulder. If Yasha had been a little smaller, then she might have been able to squeeze into the bed with Beau.

‘Yeah, I uh...for a moment there, I thought I was going to die,’ Beau admitted. All she’d seen was the blood, all she’d felt was the pain...It had been kind of terrifying. ‘Glad I didn’t.’

Silence came over them. It was maybe the wrong time to tell Yasha that up until a few months ago, Beau had...well, it wasn’t that she’d wanted to die, but it wasn’t as though she’d had an overwhelming amount of things to live for. She’d just sort of gone through life, waiting for things to change, waiting for them to get better, and in the space of a single phone call, a single meeting, they had.

Beau wondered what her life would be like now if she’d walked home a different way that day, if she’d never seen the sign on the noticeboard looking for a drummer. She probably wouldn’t be in hospital, for one thing. Folsen afternoon at four o’clock, she’d probably be getting ready for a basketball game. In her bedroom, at home. Well, not home anymore. At her _old_ home. TJ would be down the hall, playing with his toys, and Beau would be seething a little from an argument she’d had with her dad.

In spite of the literal stab wound in her stomach, this was better. Like, there wasn’t even a competition. Beau couldn’t believe how godsdamned lucky she’d gotten.

‘I am very glad you didn’t, too,’ Yasha said, finally, and Beau realized that maybe they’d both been reflecting on things a little bit there.

Yasha stayed until 6:01, when a friendly nurse came and told her that visiting hours were over, and that she would have to leave. She clearly didn’t want to, and Beau didn’t particularly want her to either, but Yasha gave Beau a very long kiss goodbye as she left. 

Things were pretty boring after that. Dinner was a pretty bland affair of overcooked chicken, under-cooked carrots, and some green beans that seemed like they might have been taken off the vine too early. Beau ate about half of it, before realizing that she was not particularly hungry. Whatever drugs they had her on were making her feel lightly nauseous, to the point where she asked the doctor to take out her IV.

If she was going to be going home tomorrow anyway (which she would, even if she had to check herself out against doctors orders), then she would much prefer to be on pills instead of a drip.

Through the night, the numbness started to subside, replaced by an itching sort of pain. Annoying as hell, but not so bad that Beau couldn’t sleep. She was pretty sure she slept for almost twelve hours, which probably shouldn’t have been surprising. She didn’t even remember being woken up to take her pain pills, which was probably a testament to just how tired she’d been.

The moment the clock struck ten a.m, Yasha was back accompanied by Molly, Caleb and Jester. Caleb was apparently the getaway driver. Beau had already had a decently long...if not argument, then  _discussion_ with the doctor about when she’d be allowed to leave. In the end, Beau was pretty sure he’d only relented because he didn’t want to argue.

Yasha helped Beau get dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and shorts. Not her usual style, but then that would have been way too uncomfortable against the still-fresh stab wound in her gut. The doctor gave instructions for bandage changing and wound care, and prescriptions for a whole slew of different pills. The general gist of it was pain-management and stopping infection which seemed to be pretty important things.

The hospital billing department...well, that was a problem for another day. Beau eschewed the offer of a wheelchair, before the nurse insisted that it wasn’t an offer, that she had to take one for liability reasons. Beau rolled her eyes and relented, on the condition that Yasha was the only one that was allowed to push it. ‘I mean, I’d much prefer if you carried me,’ she said, and a mildly embarrassed flush crossed Yasha’s cheeks. Beau was definitely going to bring that one out later.

For now, she was happy to be going home, safe, alive, and if not well, then at the very least surrounded by the people that she loved.

Everything else could wait.


	21. XXI

XXI

Even though she had spent just two nights away from home, Beau was very glad to be back in her own bed. No sooner than she had fallen into it, she fell asleep, and was out until the afternoon, when the police came by to talk to her.

Beau wasn’t entirely sure why they were doing it now, rather than having done it at the hospital yesterday. She got the distinct impression from their laidback attitude that this was a formality more than anything, and they wouldn’t exactly be pulling out all the stops to find Tori. Or maybe that was just her own less than stellar experiences with the local police department that were coloring her perception of them.

Beau wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Weirdly, even after what had happened, she wasn’t exactly  _afraid_ of Tori. She knew she could take on Tori in a fair fight without even breaking a sweat. The problem was that Tori had a tendency to try and make things a little less than fair.

So when Marion Lavorre intercepted the officers on their way out of Beau’s bedroom, Beau wasn’t expecting too much. ‘I hope you are doing all you could be to make sure that this is dealt with, officers,’ she said. ‘My daughters  could have been killed. I  would not want to have to talk to Marquis Uludan.’ There was a pause. ‘He is, of course, a close personal friend.’

The fact that Jester’s mother was a close, personal friend of the Marquis of Nicodranas should have been bigger news. She wasn’t lying, at any rate. The only part of the conversation that Beau’s mind had latched onto, though was the part where Marion had said, “my daughters were almost killed.”

She had said it so easily, without any hesitation, and there was not any doubt in Beau’s mind that she had meant it. The thought put a strange feeling in her chest that she didn’t know what to do with.

Her own mother had...well, she had at least visited Beau in the hospital, that was something. But her mother’s life was ruled by fear, by the fact that any amount of assertiveness would end in something bad happening. For the first time in her life, Beau had a parent that was willing to fight for her, rather than against her.

Beau couldn’t do a whole lot to stop the tears that came once she realized that. They were happy tears, of course, but it didn’t stop Yasha from getting very, very worried when she came to Beau’s room with tea and biscuits five minutes later.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, very haphazardly setting her tray down on the nightstand, tea sloshing everywhere. ‘Did they blame you for being attacked?’ Her fist was clenched, and for a brief moment Beau was certain that Yasha would have gone and beaten the shit out of a police officer if she thought they’d upset Beau.

That would have gone down  _really_ well.

‘Ah, no, they were fine.’ Beau shook her head. ‘Just, you know...a little sore.’ Not technically a lie, but Beau wasn’t sure she had the words to describe the complexity of things that she was feeling right now.

‘Do you think they’ll find her?’ Yasha asked. Beau shrugged. She honestly didn’t really want to think about it. That was a problem for after Beau was allowed to leave the house. 

In any case, the house itself was a little more secure just in case Tori did try anything. Bluud had brought in some friends to make sure that the premises was being watched around the clock, and he had, with Jester’s “help” installed motion detectors around the outside of the property. Marion’s job already meant that the house was pretty secure, which might have been why Tori had waited until Beau and Yasha were well away from it before trying anything.

‘I got a text message from Caleb,’ Yasha commented, as Beau drank her tea. ‘He is bringing around the recording from our session.’

In the drama of it all, Beau had utterly all the things that had led to them being on their own near the Opal Archways. Had forgotten about the sheer importance of that recording. ‘Oh, awesome,’ she said. ‘Are you going to like…edit it or anything before you send it in?’

Yasha looked startled, as though she hadn’t even considered that idea. ‘I don’t know, do you think I should.’ A pause. ‘I just thought I could send it in, and not have to worry about it again.’

‘I mean, up to you,’ Beau said. ‘How about we take a listen together when Caleb brings it around?’

Caleb, with Veth in tow, dropped around in the early afternoon, with a thumb drive that he cradled like it contained the lost secrets of civilization. Jester was still out grocery shopping with Bluud (Jester helping with the shopping meant that ninety percent of what they ate for the next few days was going to be sugar-related).

Beau was pretty sure that Veth was supposed to be in class, but she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t as though she’d never skipped school before. 

Beau had her laptop sitting next to the bed, so she plugged in the drive, and the four of them listened to the seven-and-a-half-minute-long harp and drum recording that, right now, felt like the most important song in the world.

Seven-and-a-half minutes after Beau pressed play, she was crying once more. Even though she’d heard the song well over a dozen times at this point, there was a stark difference between playing it and hearing, it, feeling the overwhelming emotions that Yasha must have as she plucked those harp strings.

It was perfect.

‘I still want to write something to go with it,’ Yasha was saying, as though Beau, Veth, and even Caleb weren’t currently crying quietly. ‘To explain, ah...some of the choices.’

‘I’m sure whatever you say will be perfect,’ Beau said, squeezing Yasha’s hand. Yasha leaned over and kissed Beau, mindful of the still-healing wound at her stomach.

‘Holy shit,’ Veth interrupted, as she looked up from her phone. ‘Are you guys _dating_?’ Beau stared at her, half-incredulous. _Are you_ kidding _me?_

‘Uh...for a while now,’ she said. It had been at least a month. Admittedly, though, they had never explicitly announced it, simply going about their business, and figuring out that the rest of them would pick up on it eventually. Veth had apparently not picked up the less than subtle public displays of affection until this point.

‘Hmmph!’ Veth clearly either did not believe Beau, or thought that she had been singled out to not be told. Even Caleb’s reassurance was not enough to assuage her.

Veth would get over it, Beau was sure. Though Marion invited them both to stay for dinner, Caleb made what seemed to be a hurried excuse that he had a lot of work to do, and left with Veth. Beau got the strangest impression that he was not the biggest fan of sit-down dinners with large groups. Not that they were  _that_ large. Just Beau, and Yasha, and Jester, and Molly...hmm, well, maybe that was a lot for some people.

Beau technically probably should have stayed in bed to eat dinner, but she sure as fuck wasn’t going to let something like a healing knife wound stop her from doing things. It might have taken her ten minutes to get downstairs, but it was worth it.

The  only nice thing about getting stabbed was that it was pretty much a free pass not to go to school for a few days.

The novelty of that, however, wore thin after the first day, especially given that Yasha  _was_ at school, and Beau’s main source of company was Jester. Not that Jester was bad company or anything.  Beau was trying to do the homework that Dairon had emailed her, but constant interruptions with questions like “is Yasha a good kisser?” and “do you think Fjord is a good kisser?” were a little grating.

Beau closed the lid of her laptop. ‘I hope I never find out,’ she said, and the minor disgust that crossed her face was not feigned. It wasn’t that she thought Fjord was gross or anything, but there was not a single ounce of attraction there, and Beau felt any answer that she gave would be more than a little biased. 

Jester, on the other hand, was a little bit enthralled by the idea, so Beau let her ramble for a little bit. She got the impression that the other two had perhaps been dancing around each other since long before Beau had come onto the scene. Fjord, for his part, seemed to be doing the respectful thing, and waiting until Jester had…well, whatever the homeschooling equivalent of graduation was. Beau could respect that. Fjord seemed to put a lot of importance  in etiquette and gentlemanliness.

By Whelsen, Beau was going stir crazy. The wound seemed to be healing well; the last time Yasha had helped her change the bandage, most of the inflammation seemed to have gone down. Given that she was mostly bedridden, though, she was pretty sure she had never gone so long without at least using a practice pad.

That afternoon, with more than a little bit of help from Jester, Beau made it down to the garage. A fine layer of dust had settled over the kit, which had been sitting unused for almost a week.

Weirdly, it wasn’t too bad. Maybe it was the fact that she was still on painkillers, or maybe it was the fact that she decided against even trying to use the bass pedal. Even still, after just half an hour of mild drumming, Beau was exhausted.

‘Oh man...I think I’m going to regret that tomorrow.’ Beau set her sticks down on the snare drum. Jester had a weird look on her face.

‘So like...after graduation, you’ll probably be moving away, right?’ she asked. Beau realized all at once that maybe this was something that Jester had been thinking about for a while, that she had waited until now to say something.

‘I dunno.’ Beau shrugged, and regretted it. So maybe drumming hadn’t been the best idea. ‘Depends on where I get accepted.’ She _had_ applied for some of the local colleges, but if she was honest (and she kind of didn’t want to admit that to Jester), there were much better colleges around. Beau was sort of hoping that she would get a yes from Zadash. ‘Probably. What about you? You can take tests and stuff to get into college, right?’

‘Oh, sure,’ Jester said, but she didn’t seem sure. ‘I haven’t really decided what I want to do, you know? I might stay here for a bit and try and find work, you know…’ There was a long pause. ‘I’ve never really been away from Momma before.’

Beau had spent her life not being able to wait to get away from her family. The idea of having a family that you didn’t want to leave was a little foreign to her. Or maybe not. Because she  _did_ feel a little bad at the idea of leaving behind her newfound family, at moving to a city where she knew nobody. If she was lucky, she would have Yasha. But, that could all change in an instant.

Beau definitely knew that well enough. 

In a new place, there would be opportunity for new friends, new experiences, new...whatever. It would be tough, but at the end of the day, it would be giving Beau the opportunity to take her life in whatever direction she wanted. Even if that meant coming back to Nicodranas and playing in a garage band.

‘I mean, I’m gonna come back and visit,’ Beau told her. ‘For holidays at the very least.’

Jester brightened at that. Beau wondered if she’d thought that Beau leaving meant that she was never coming back. Maybe she had underestimated her own effect on everyone else’s life. That they would miss her even as she was missing them.

Whatever happened, Beau would be ready for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the endgame now...


	22. XXII

XXII

It was four days after Beau’s release from hospital that she learned Tori had been arrested. Weirdly, it wasn’t the police that told her, but Jester’s mother. Beau assumed, then, that she had been putting the pressure on them to make sure that the streets were safe from a violent criminal.

Beau wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

The first time Tori had been arrested, Beau had felt guilty, but that was mostly due to the fact that it had unequivocally been her fault. If she hadn’t fucked up, then her dad wouldn’t have found out, and the cops wouldn’t have gotten involved…

But then, if none of that had happened, Beau wouldn’t have been sitting in the garage in Jester’s house, watching her girlfriend tune her harp.

‘Attempted murder, aggravated assault, possession of a deadly weapon…’ Molly whistled. ‘Wow, Jester, your mom must really have some pull.’

‘Well I don’t think she can actually _tell_ them what to charge her with,’ Jester said, shrugging. ‘But like...she kind of _did_ try to kill Beau, so you know…’

‘Sitting right here,’ Beau reminded them, here being “cross-legged on Yasha’s bed, trying not to think about how badly things could have gone, or how badly they could still go.” She was assuming, of course, that if it went to court, she would have to appear, or something. Hopefully Tori had the sense to plead guilty.

“Sense” of course, was something that hadn’t exactly been in great supply between the two of them.

‘We would have been _reaaaally_ sad about it,’ Jester assured her, and Beau knew that she was being sincere. It wouldn’t exactly have been a walk in the park for Beau either, but at least she wouldn’t have been around to deal with the aftermath.

‘Eh,’ Molly shrugged, and waved his hand a little. He was grinning, though, and winked at Beau when she stared at him. To her great pleasure, he was immediately lambasted by both Jester and Yasha. Definitely worth it.

‘I honestly do not want to think about it,’ Beau told them. ‘The fact that she’s hopefully out of my life for good now is enough for me. Plus.’ She gestured to her abdomen. ‘I got a dope scar now.’ Almost imperceptibly, Yasha pulled away from her harp, a little more than just mildly concerned.

_Right,_ Beau reminded herself. _Don’t be blasé about almost dying in front of the people that care about you._

‘Don’t worry.’ Beau gave a light sort of grin. ‘I’m in no hurry to get another one.’ It was true that hanging around these people had been an undoubtedly positive influence on Beau. She couldn’t even think of the last time she’d even felt like breaking the law, trespassing in an abandoned warehouse, or stealing cartons of beer from the back of a truck being unloaded.

She was lucky as fuck that previous transgressions had never ended in serious consequences. The darker, more self-loathing part of her mind wondered if Tori had had good reason to be angry. But then, Beau had never pulled a knife on anyone.

So that was at least one point in Beau’s favor.

She had a couple more days on the stronger painkillers, before the doctors wanted her to transition to regular pain pills. Beau was glad; the stronger pills made her sleepy all the time, and she had definitely passed out at her laptop more than once while trying to make quadratic equations not look like an alien language. It was a good thing that she didn’t have anything _really_ important to get in, like more admissions essays.

At most, Beau had helped Yasha finish off her own story to accompany the song that she was sending off to different universities. Beau couldn’t help but notice that the only ones she was sending it to were the ones that Beau had also applied for.

‘You know, as much as I hate to say it,’ Beau said, (and okay, maybe the painkillers were making her brutally honest), ‘You don’t have to go somewhere just because I’m going to be there.’

Yasha shrugged slightly. ‘I...you know, I’m not good with new people. If Jester and Molly aren’t going to university, then I would at least like to be with someone that I l-know.’ Beau couldn’t tell what word starting with L Yasha had been about to use there, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

‘I’m sure we could convince them to come with us,’ Beau said, and she was only half-joking. While both of them had seemed intent on taking a gap year (Molly continued to insist that he was going to join the circus), that was probably something that technically didn’t even have to happen in Nicodranas.

The others, well, things were a little iffy.

The mere fact that Beau had at least one person in her life that wanted to go exactly where she went...well, it was something that she never thought that she’d experience. Something that she thought about every day, and still couldn’t quite believe it. Sometimes it felt like the other shoe was about to drop, like Yasha would one day say “surprise, it’s over,” and Beau would just have to deal with that. It was a feeling that had lessened bit by bit as time went on, as Beau realized that firstly, Yasha would never do something like that, and that secondly, not everything had to end badly.

It wasn’t showing any sign of ending.

The following week, Beau went back to school. She was still in no small amount of pain, and Dairon did suggest that she take another week off, but it was senior year, and Beau wasn’t going to let something as petty as a still-healing stab wound get in the way of what needed to be done.

Of course, Judo was a no-go, and even band was a rough experience. Beau didn’t particularly want to stop helping in the library, because it was the one thing that was keeping her in school. Not that she thought that either Dairon or Principal Fon would kick her out. Not this close to the end of the year. Plus, if there was any ground for compassionate reasons, Beau was pretty sure she would have fulfilled them to a T.

With Dairon’s help, she had put in the paperwork for scholarship applications; a few financial hardship ones, but mostly academic ones. Beau had tided up and edited an essay from one of her history assignments that she was particularly proud of.

If Beau made it to college, made it anywhere in life, it wouldn’t be because of anything that her parents had done.

Beau had sent her mother a couple of text messages, just to make sure that...well, she didn’t want either of her parents thinking that she was dead. Though Beau was pretty sure her dad still didn’t even know she’d been in hospital, and frankly, she wanted to keep it that way.

About a week and a half after she’d gone back to school, Beau got a message from her mother asking if she wanted to get coffee. Beau hesitated.

‘I mean...should I?’ Beau asked. ‘She...I dunno, I get that she wants to make sure I’m okay, but it’s still weird, right?’

‘I mean, it’s a little weird,’ Yasha shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I ah...my situation is very different.’

Right. Of course. Yasha didn’t have a mother to get coffee with even if she wanted to. Or...actually, no. She did. They both did. Marion Lavorre had been more of a mother in the space of months than Clara Lionett had in years. But the situations _were_ completely different.

Really, she should say no. She’d feel maybe a little guilty, but at the end of the day Beau had to do what was best for herself. There was only one thing that would get her to change her mind.

_Can you bring TJ?_

Beau sent the message before she could talk herself out of it. A reply didn’t come straight away, and Beau could just imagine her mother staring at the phone trying to work up the courage to say no. The typing started and then stopped and then started and then stopped several times before finally:

_Yes, I can bring him_.

Huh. Well wonders never ceased. The problem was, now Beau would have to sit through coffee with her mother just to be able to see her brother. Not that it would have been as bad as coffee with her dad. Beau just didn’t really know that there was much to talk about.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Yasha asked. It wasn’t until she spoke that Beau realized she’d been staring at her phone silently for the last five minutes, still unsure of what to say.

Somehow, though, the following afternoon found her and Yasha navigating their way to a cafe in the Open Quay. Beau was a little surprised that her mother hadn’t picked something in the Opal Archways, but then, if she didn’t want Beau’s father to find out, then it made sense to do it somewhere that he would never go.

Beau wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. Her mother wasn’t going to start an argument or anything. She would never do anything so confrontational. Maybe it was that lingering, underlying fear that she might try to convince Beau to come home.

All those fears seemed to wash away, though, when Beau stepped into the cafe, and was immediately pounced upon by a two-and-a-half foot tall blur. It was a very gentle pounce, running up, and then stopping before putting careful arms around Beau’s thighs. ‘Hi Beau.’

Beau sunk down to her knees, and wrapped her brother in the tightest, longest hug that she could manage. ‘Hi TJ.’

Eventually, she had to pull away, even though she really, really didn’t want to. They would have coffee for an hour or so, and then Beau would have to leave, and she didn’t know when she’d be able to see her brother again. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She wiped them away, furiously.

Yasha put a hand to her shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’ she murmured. Beau nodded, and steeled herself. Her mother had watched the reunion between Beau and TJ without getting up. There was a sadness in her eyes, Beau thought. She had her hands clasped on top of her handbag, which was sitting in her lap.

‘Hi,’ Beau said, a little awkwardly. ‘Uh...This is Yasha. My girlfriend. Yasha, this is my mom.’ There was a moment of silence where nobody seemed to know what to do. Then Yasha stepped forward, and held out a hand. Clara stood, seeming relieved that someone had taken the initiative, and shook it.

It seemed to break the tension a bit, and when they all sat down (TJ on Beau’s lap, which was only a little bit painful), Clara was smiling a little. ‘I like her more than the last one.’

Beau snorted slightly. It was not a high bar. Not to mention, Beau would never have brought Tori along to something like this, even without the whole stabbing thing. ‘Yeah, me too.’ She squeezed Yasha’s hand, and gave her a tiny wink. Yasha beamed.

They ordered coffee, and muffins, along with juice for TJ. The boy was utterly enamored with Yasha’s long hair, and from his position on Beau’s lap, kept trying to play with the braids.

Even as she drank her coffee, though, Beau couldn’t help but wonder a few things. Things that she didn’t really want to talk about in front of TJ. Yasha was paying attention. ‘Do you want me to take him to the play corner, so that you two can talk?’

If Beau was every going to express her utter love for Yasha, the way she was so in tune with everything that Beau wanted, or the things that she didn’t want, but _needed_ , it would have been now.

Beau watched, then, as Yasha sat down with TJ, and the two of them started building a tower out of blocks. It was almost compelling enough to tear Beau away from the reason they were there. She turned back to her mother, who was starting to look nervous again.

‘Does he know you’re here?’

There was a long pause. ‘He knows I wanted to try and catch up with you,’ Clara said, finally, which wasn’t really an answer. ‘He...he regrets how things happened.’ Beau highly doubted that. If he _really_ regretted how things happened, he would have reached out to apologize. But since he hadn’t even bothered to do that, Beau could only imagine that the only thing he regretted was not being able to control her life anymore.

But if he wasn’t stopping her from seeing TJ, then that was something. He just didn’t care enough to come and see her himself. Which, honestly, was fine with Beau. She had very little desire to see her father any time soon, and apparently he had little desire to see her.

‘Listen,’ Beau said, and she watched her mother’s body stiffen slightly. She was expecting a rebuke, Beau could tell. ‘I...thanks for letting me see TJ today. And thanks for...being less shitty than _him_.’ Not that that was difficult. ‘I know that...I know that things aren’t always easy, and me being in that house didn’t exactly make it better.’ She was trying not to make her voice sound accusatory, but it was hard.

After all, it wasn’t supposed to be on _her_ to make things easier for her parents. It was on them to ensure that their children had a decent life, and on that front, both of her parents had well and truly failed.

So it was with maybe not satisfaction, but at the very least some closure that Beau left that day. She’d hugged TJ goodbye, and hesitated before hugging her mother as well. It still felt a little stiff and weird, and maybe it always would, but Beau was glad that she’d done it.

‘Tell dad…’ Beau paused, and she wasn’t sure if she was imagining the fleeting look of fear that crossed her mother’s face.

Beau bit her lip. ‘Tell him whatever you want,’ she said.


	23. XXIII

XXIII

Things were strangely quiet for a while.

Or maybe quiet was the wrong word. It was ramping up to finals time, so whenever Beau wasn’t at school, she had a book open, trying to memorize the suspected causes of the fall of Molaesmyr, or the life cycle of a moorbounder. Molly and Yasha, too, were both studying far more than Beau had ever seen either of them do, to the point where band practice was whittled down to once a month.

Beau enjoyed the band practices, but at the same time, she didn’t need them as much as she had even a few months ago. Not that she didn’t need the practice. She still had a long way to go in terms of her drumming “career.” But that satisfaction of hanging out with people and having fun, and shooting the shit was filled by other parts of her life.

Even studying, though, fell a bit to the wayside in early Dualahei when college acceptance letters started coming out.

Beau wasn’t entirely sure she was so nervous. She spent the first day of the month pacing the upstairs hallway, as though a carrier pigeon would drop in at any second with news. Whatever happened, happened, and it wasn’t as though she could do anything to change it now. Either Beau would get to go to college, and have people (one person, really) for company, or she wouldn’t.

Everything happened in quick succession. The first letter that Beau got was for the University of Nicodranas, accepting her application. It was followed quickly by Rexxentrum, Port Damali, and even Vasselheim. Beau was pretty sure she didn’t want to go to Vasselheim, but she’d applied just for fun.

Beau was still nervous though. Not because she hadn’t gotten a letter from the one university that she cared about, but because Yasha hadn’t gotten any yet. The other girl tried to seem like she didn’t care about it, but she very clearly did.

Beau was torn. She didn’t want to leave Yasha behind, but she also kind of really wanted to get away from Nicodranas for a little bit. Zadash wasn’t exactly paradise, but it did have a great university.

It wasn’t until the second week of Dualahei that their letter came. It was Jester that went out to the letterbox, and she ran back to the house, calling out for the entire street to hear. ‘Yasha got one too!’ she yelled, and Beau’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Does this mean we’re finally going to get rid of you?’ Molly asked, as Jester came into the garage. Beau threw a drumstick at him. He grinned.

Jester handed Beau her envelope. The logo of the University of Zadash was emblazoned on the top right hand corner. Beau stared at it, then at Yasha. There was a look on Yasha’s face that was simultaneously hopeful and terrified.

‘You go first,’ Beau said. Her hands were shaking. She couldn’t help but notice that her own envelope was a little thicker than Yasha’s. Did that mean that Yasha didn’t get in? Beau was agonizing over that thought. After all the work that Yasha had put in—

‘I got in,’ Yasha said. She, too, was trembling, holding the piece of paper that Beau had barely even registered her taking out of the envelope. ‘Beau, I got in!’ Her voice was utterly disbelieving, like she couldn’t ever have imagined something like this happening.

Emboldened, Beau tore her own letter open. She was right; there was a little more paper in hers than in Yasha’s. The only important word on the first page was “accepted.” But the second page...

_We are pleased to announce that you are a successful recipient of the Ioun’s Blessing Scholarship of Academic Excellence. Over the course of your journey at Zadash University, you will receive_ _₲_ _5,000 p/a for academic expenses, and a further_ _₲4000 p/a for living expenses._

Dumbfounded, Beau stared. Well, shit. She had sort of maybe thought that she might be eligible for some kind of pity money, but this...this was a serious fucking scholarship. Apparently busting her ass on all of those essays had paid off. The one that she’d sent in with the scholarship application had been a retooled one that she’d gotten a pretty good grade on about the fall of Aeor and the annexing of the Cognouza. She still had the bit of paper somewhere with comments like “excellent analysis” from Mr. Tubo.

Wordlessly, Beau handed the bit of paper to Yasha, who was still riding the high of her own acceptance.

It took a moment, but then Yasha was enveloping Beau in an enormous hug. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ she whispered into Beau’s ear, and it was weird. Beau wasn’t even sure if she’d ever heard those words from anyone before. Then, Jester and Molly piled on, and Beau had to extricate herself to avoid getting smothered to death.

They went out to dinner to celebrate.

It was a nice restaurant, down on the waterfront. Jester’s mother had even put on her nicest dress, and steeled herself to brave the public. Beauregard had sent a picture of the second letter to Dairon, who didn’t seem to be even a little bit surprised. Beau suspected that there may have been some insider information leaving the house. Instead of being upset, though, the idea filled Beau with a strange sort of warmth. When her parents spoke about her with other people, it was always “she’s a troublemaker,” or “we don’t know what we’re going to do with her.” Beau had never been in a situation where a parental figure had been spreading _good_ news about her.

It kind of made her want to do _more_ good things.

It also made her want – need – to do something else. Not that she didn’t need to do this part already, but it was a good time for it. She hadn’t really put a great deal of thought into exactly _what_ she wanted to do once she finished studying. Hadn’t even really settled on what she wanted to major in. History was the obvious choice, but there was also something to be said about things that were a little more...well, pragmatic.

As long it was absolutely nothing to do with wine, or business, or anything else like that. Beau couldn’t imagine having been through everything that she’d been through, and somehow ending up as an asshole in a suit anyway.

She would rather have rags for clothes, and not a single copper to her name than ever set a foot down the path her father had set out for her. The fact that she’d been able to get herself away from that situation was a miracle in and of itself.

A miracle that could never have happened without a fuckton of help.

After dinner, Beau waited until everyone else had wandered outside. Molly and Jester were, for lack of a better term, gallivanting down the street, and Yasha stopped only for Beau to give her a nod, before following after them.

Jester’s mother was smiling widely, apparently anticipating whatever it was that Beau hadn’t even decided she was going to say yet.

Beau stared at the ground. ‘I just wanted to say…’ She paused. She wasn’t sure how she could phrase this. How could she say thank-you for something so life-changing. Without Marion, Beau would be out on the street, or worse. ‘I really appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I can repay it.’

‘Beauregard.’ Marion put two strong, nurturing hands on Beau’s shoulders. ‘You are a wonderful, capable, and loving person. If your parents could not see that, then I could not bear to let it go unshown. It is not something that you would ever have to repay.’

Beau hugged her. She wasn’t even sure she was going to do it until she had done it. Marion’s arms seemed to envelop her in warmth. It felt far more welcoming, far more natural than any hug that her parents had ever given her. Beau didn’t particularly want to let go, but eventually she pulled back, her eyes wet with tears.

‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘If it’s alright, I might, you know...come back to visit you and Jester during term break.’

‘You know,’ Marion said, thoughtfully. ‘Jester _has_ been talking about perhaps going to Zadash. To make sure that...ah, you and Yasha don’t have too much fun without her, are the words she was using.’

Beau smiled. And she saw her opportunity. ‘I mean, if you get lonely,’ Beau said, and trailed off. She was pretty sure Marion was smart enough to figure it out. At the very least, her eyes twinkled, and a smile played across her lips.

‘Your valiant matchmaking efforts aside,’ Marion said, ‘I am quite capable of wooing anyone I set my mind to.’ Beau didn’t doubt it for a second. Still, Marion wasn’t rebuking her, and seemed thoroughly amused by the situation.

‘I’m just saying…’ Beau was grinning now, too. ‘You two would be pretty cute together.’

Marion didn’t say anything, but gestured over to the door where Yasha was waiting. It was so smooth that it wasn’t until Beau had rejoined Yasha that she realized Marion had been avoiding the conversation topic. Or maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it with Beau. Both equally possible.

Beau slipped her hand into Yasha’s. They wandered off down the pier to watch the sun finish setting. Molly and Jester followed behind, clearly trying to be as nosy as possible.

It was nearly seven o’clock, but this far south, and heading into spring, they had another sliver or so of light before twilight truly hit. The sky was a deep blue that faded into a brilliant orange before disappearing into the sea.

Beau was definitely going to miss it. Zadash would of course have sunsets, but Beau knew that they wouldn’t be anywhere near as impressive as the ones in Nicodranas.

‘So, you gonna accept?’ Beau asked, as though they hadn’t just had a celebratory dinner.

Yasha pretended to think on the matter. ‘You know, I have been thinking about it, and perhaps college just isn’t for me. Maybe I will join the circus with Molly.’ There was a very serious look on Yasha’s face, but her lips twitched just enough to give it away. Molly, two benches away, threw a paper cup at them (‘I heard that!’).

In a much quieter, much more serious voice, Yasha said. ‘Being able to do this – going to college, maybe getting a good career...for the longest time it was something that I never thought that I would be able to do, and I am so grateful that I have been given the chance.’

‘Yeah,’ Beau said, softly. Her circumstances weren’t exactly similar to Yasha’s, but she had that same doubt, that same vagueness about her future that was ever so slowly beginning to fade. She had never been so hopeful about her future, about the path that lay ahead of her. ‘Me too.’

‘Are you guys going to make out now, or can we go home?’ Jester called out. Beau grinned. She squeezed Yasha’s hand, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go home.’


	24. Epilogue

Epilogue

Beau graduated high school on a bright, warm Folsen afternoon at the end of Unndilar. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d been looking forward to the day until it happened. Hadn’t realized how much she’d been looking forward to the idea of leaving this life behind and starting something new.

Not that it had been all bad, of course.

She loved Nicodranas, loved her friends, loved Yasha...not that she had technically told any of them that.

The previous week, Beau had gone with her friends to Molly and Yasha’s graduation ceremony. For some reason, Nicodranas High were released from their shackles a week earlier. Maybe it had something to do with them being a public school, Beau had no idea. In any case, she had cheered for her friend and her girlfriend as they received their diplomas, and the warmth rose in her chest when she saw the utterly joyous smile on Yasha’s face.

Beau was looking forward to maybe seeing that smile every day for the rest of her life. Or at least the next few years. The rest of her life was a _long_ time, and she wasn’t really sure how she wanted it to go just yet.

The next few months, at least, Beau could be certain about. Move to Zadash, find a job, find a place to live, see the sights, work her ass off...Maybe go on a date here and there.

Beau was in the band area, waiting for her section to be called. There was something strangely funny about having to play the music at her own graduation, and it meant that she didn’t have a great view of where her friends were in the crowd.

According to Yasha, they’d all come along. Even Veth had snuck away from school to attend, which was strangely heartwarming.

Beau hadn’t bothered to invite her parents. She had thought about it, of course. Thought about maybe only inviting her mother, but that would have caused more problems than it solved. It wasn’t as though she could have asked if TJ could come and _not_ her.

Beau was pretty sure she wouldn’t have come anyway. Coffee was one thing, but a several hours long ceremony with shitty seats and very few refreshments was another thing altogether. Maybe Beau would say goodbye on her way out of town, but...well, it wasn’t her highest priority.

When they started on the “L” names, Beau put her drumsticks down, and went to join her spot in the line. From this angle, she had a slightly better view of the crowd, and could just about pick up on a flash of purple skin somewhere near the back. Then some blue. Then green.

All of a sudden, her friends came into sharp focus, and Beau could see Jester and Veth’s excited waves as they saw her. Veth was, to the consternation of the people behind them, sitting on Jester’s shoulders. Even still, the combined tower of them was still shorter than Caduceus, who was trying to make himself as small as possible. Beau smiled. Her eyes passed along the row, where Caleb and Molly were sitting next to each other, possibly holding hands. It was a little difficult to tell at this distance. Then there was Fjord, sitting very straight, and clearly trying to look like he belonged. Next to Fjord was Yasha. Even though she was so far away, it was like everything else seemed to stop.

Beau could feel her heart pounding with nerves, could feel the world narrowing to a sliver around her, but the moment she looked into Yasha’s eyes, she knew that everything was going to be okay.

She was so focused on Yasha that she almost didn’t see the two people at the end of the row; Marion Lavorre, beaming, and sitting next to her, very much not in the faculty section of the audience, Dairon.

_ Hah _ .

Beau grinned. To tear her eyes away from her friends – her  _ family _ – was the hardest thing in the world, but if she didn’t pay attention, she was going to miss her name.

Eric Linton was the boy right before her, and he stumbled up on stage to take his diploma, and nervously walked off. Then:

‘Beauregard Lionett.’ Beau could have sworn she heard a cheer arising from the back of the room, and she felt her heart swell. With more confidence than she had had in months, she walked up onto the stage, and shook Principal Fon’s hand.

‘Very well done, Beauregard,’ they murmured. As principal, it could hardly have failed to escape their notice what Beau had been through this year, so even a small, personal acknowledgment felt like a lot. Beau nodded, and took her diploma with a slightly shaking hand.

When Beau stepped off the stage with her whole life ahead, with the thrumming music of possibility inside of her, she could have sworn that she could fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's done.
> 
> Didn't expect it to be so long, but I guess I never do.
> 
> Not sure what will be next. Probably a chapter of Once Upon a Time in Ancient Exandria, and then who knows. Tell me what you want to see!

**Author's Note:**

> For Reasons, I am going to be working on this story for a bit instead of some of my other ongoings. I haven't forgotten about them, and will get back to them, but for now you get this.


End file.
